


Living On My Own

by RadLoser



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: A Morrissey shirt that Gerard doesn't shut up about?, Also Gerard laughs at his own jokes, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Frank is shy but really sarcastic, Frank is twenty-six but has a baby face, Frank needs a hug, Gerard is really calm, Gerard is thirty, M/M, Old ladies can be really loud, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:26:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadLoser/pseuds/RadLoser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Gerard comes home from a business trip to find a squatter, Frank, living in his house. Little does he know Frank has fallen in love with the beautiful man in the photographs on the mantle, and his story. (He shouldn’t have read the journal entries, or flipped through Gerard’s sketchbook, but he couldn’t help himself.) They must both navigate the strange situation they’ve been thrown into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT FOR NEW READERS! PLEASE READ!
> 
> At this present time, this fic is under construction! When I started writing it, it was being written in the past tense, but I'm now undergoing changes and making it so that it's all the present! You may read one chapter in the present, and then the next in the past. That just means I haven't gotten around to doin' the ol' switch-a-roo to it yet! I politely ask for your understanding and patience. Other than that, regardless of when you read it, it should still make sense all the same! I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Also: I, myself, live in Ireland, so therefore I write in UK English. Just a heads up if you see things spelled like 'colour' or 'humour'. I'm not changing that.
> 
> RadLoser - 24-April-2015
> 
> Edit again: I believe I've fixed it all, all current chapters are in the present tense. However, if you spot any mistakes, do let me know! Thank you! 
> 
> RadLoser - 22-June-2015

“ _Two months, _two whole fucking months_ of following my lazy-ass boss around. Why the fucking hell did I take this job? It’s not worth the god-awful hours and la-di-da business trips._ ” Gerard grumbles while he takes a sip from his travel mug, which he strictly reserves for coffee, struggling to keep his eyes open.

You see, Gerard’s been working for some big fancy-shmancy company that he’s not even sure what they produce, or if they offer some kind of service, but all he knows is that he is the boss’s assistant. _Mr.Reginald_ , or something along those lines. You could just go with Gerard’s more suited name of Dickhead. Either one works. He doesn't know what the guy’s name is, or cares all that much either, he just has to cater to every single one of his fucking needs. _No biggie_.

Gerard's fuming as he pulls up to the drive of his house. _His house_. If anything good comes out of this job, it was the pay, which means he's able to afford a house of his own. He breathes a slight sigh of relief as he hears the click of the lock opening up the door. “ _Sleep_.” He murmurs with half lidded eyes. Apparently the coffee hasn't done it’s job.

He trudges up the stairs, right hand sliding lazily up the banister while his shoes shuffle against the carpet. He's pretty sure the second his head hits the pillow, he’ll be knocked out for a while, and he couldn't be more fucking _thrilled_.

To say that Gerard's just a _little bit disoriented_ would be a drastic understatement, and you’d be stupid to defend him in that. He doesn't realise that his bedroom door was already open. He doesn't realise that he didn't take his shoes off when he climbs into the bed in question, and he _certainly_ doesn't realise the figure of a body snoring quietly under the duvet.

As he pulls the duvet up to his chest, he instinctively turns to the other person and snakes his arms around their small body and starts to make himself comfy, making sure the they had just enough duvet on their side. Gerard is a duvet whore, or so he’s been told.

“ _Wait_ ,” Ah, yes! Gerard’s finally came to the conclusion _that he lives by himself!_ “ _Who the fuck am I cuddling into?!”_ Gerard’s eyes shoot open. Is he imagining this? Is this all an illusion? An elaborate hoax? _Is he really this tired that his brain is creating people peacefully asleep in his bed?_

“ _Who the actual fuck are you?”_ Gerard shouts at the lump of duvet. The Lump stirs, bringing a hand up to rub the sleep from their eyes. “ _Wha_ -” The Lump yawns, stretches, and pulls the duvet up off their face.

“ _Holy shit, it’s a guy!_ ” Gerard means to say this is his head. Gerard, however, fails horribly. _Today just hasn’t been his day, has it?_

When The Lump opens his eyes to see Gerard staring at him like he's the second coming of Christ, he comes to the conclusion of just who it is. “ _Shit_ ,” The Lump whispers while biting his lip, “ _You’re the guy in all those photographs!"_


	2. Fuckin' Magic

_“Shit,” The Lump whispers while biting his lip, “You’re the guy in all those photographs.”  
_

 

At this point, there seems to be a very intense staring competition between Gerard and The Lump.

The short man who he was accidentally spooning with no more than thirty seconds ago looks up at Gerard with nothing but fear in his eyes. “ _Hell_ ,” Gerard thinks, “ _can I even call him a man, this kid looks about seventeen_.”

Gerard starts taking in his appearance, as you always do when you wake up to meet someone for the first time in your bed. He's about a head shorter than Gerard, with seemingly dyed black hair that obscures his eyes and left cheek. His lips are trembling and he's tugging on a small metal lip piercing with his teeth. Just as Gerard's eyes start to roam to his neck tattoo, he notices something. “You’re wearing my clothes.” Gerard states out loud. It doesn't actually bother him all that much though; Short Dude looks cute with the long, now baggy sleeves covering his hands.

“I, um, look,” Short Dude tries to explain himself “I’ll- I’ll get out of your hair now, I’m sorry, Gerard.” And before Gerard can get another word in, Short Dude dashes out down the stairs and slams the front door behind him.

 _What the fuck?_ A million questions race through Gerard’s head.

_Who was that guy?_

_How did he get in?_

_How long was he staying in my fucking house?_

_**How the fuck did he know my name?** _

“How am I meant get to sleep now?” Gerard converses to the thin air. _Unless he actually is asleep, and that was all a dream_. Gerard’s thrilling theory is proved wrong when he places his hand down on Short Dude’s side of the mattress to find it's slightly indented and still very much warm. _"Myth busted,"_ he continues talking to himself, trying to imitate a professional sounding tone. _  
_

What strikes as amusing to Gerard about this whole situation was how fucking terrified Short Dude looked. Sure, he just got caught sleeping in someone else's bed, _maybe he aspires to become Goldilocks or some shit_ , but was he afraid that Gerard might beat him up or something? Gerard isn’t exactly an intimidating looking guy, I mean come on, his hair is _fucking bright orange._ He has a rather feminine way about himself, and he doesn't exactly have any muscle.

Gerard begins pacing around the house, reassessing the situation. He looks in every room, making sure Short Dude didn't bring any friends with him. Everything seems to be in its place. By the looks of it, Short Dude even did some dusting or something; there's no dust gathered up on his mantelpiece where he keeps a few photographs with little souvenirs and trinkets from his travels. _Wow, squatters have become efficient_.

He looks through the cupboards in the kitchen to see not much food had been taken. Really just a half empty, previously unopened box of cereal that Short Dude must have started munching on. With being away for two months, Gerard didn't buy any milk, but there were two bottles of the stuff in his fridge. The dishes were done and there's a full packet of cigarettes on the table. _Huh, Marlboros._ Gerard pockets the cigarettes and thinks about how considerate Short Dude has been while staying here. _Bless, he even restocked on coffee._

Gerard decides it might be best to go for a walk. The caffeine he had earlier was now starting to serve its purpose, and if anything, he might’ve been a little shaken up about this whole ordeal. He needs to clear his head.

While heading towards the door, he pats his pockets to make sure he has his keys, new cigarettes, and swiftly grabs his sketchbook from the kitchen table.

Before closing the door behind him, he takes one last glimpse inside, making sure everything is as he left it. Satisfied, he shuts the door and makes sure _it’s fucking locked_. Being the paranoid shit he is, Gerard studies the exterior of his house. All the windows are intact, no graffiti on the outside, absolutely nothing to suggest a squatter had made their way in.

“ _Fuckin’ magic,_ ” Gerard decides, and makes his way to the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may need to look over this again for errors or whatever, but you hope you're enjoying it! Again, thank you for continuing to read this, it means a lot :3
> 
> 12/Mar/2015 - edited so that's it's all in the present tense (I hope).


	3. The Rise and Fall Of The Old Ladies

Walking to the park was uneventful, however, Gerard gets a call from Ray. He fills him in on what happened.

“So, you just walk in and see him standing there in the living room or...?” Ray trails off.

Gerard leaves out a breathy laugh. “Heh,” he clears his throat, blush creeping up his face as he remembers just how he discovered (albeit it took him awhile) that there was in fact another human being snoring in his bed. Good job, Gerard.

“Yeah, man, he was just lying on my couch, crazy right?” _You fucking liar._

“Oh woah, did he take anything valuable? Say anything to you? _Did he have any weapons?_ ” Ray asks frantically. Neither of them live in very safe neighbourhoods in New Jersey, so armed squatters are always a fun thing to be wary about.

“Oh, um, uhh” Gerard starts intelligently, trying his best to form a sentence that fits in with his lie. “Nah, he only munched a bit at the cereal. He even restocked up on coffee and milk and dusted the fucking mantelpiece. I’m not even sure if it was a squatter or a housewife that invaded my house.” Gerard pauses to giggle at his bad joke because he thinks he's the fucking cats pyjamas. Thinking over his sentence, he realises he didn't lie, which is great because he hates lying to Ray.

“And no, he didn't say much, just apologised and ran off. Did I mention he knew my name?”

“Since when do squatters apologise?” Ray ponders out loud. “And how did he find out your name? Did he go through your mail or something?” _That must be it._ Being away for two months leaves a hefty pile of letters in his mailbox. Maybe Short Dude had a little peek, the nosey little shit.

“That would seem logical, yeah,” Gerard agrees. “I kind of felt sorry for the dude, he seemed so fucking terrified when he saw me, as if I was going to punch his lights out. Ray, you know me man, you know I wouldn't hurt a fly, right?” Gerard doesn't exactly know why he's so high strung about what first impression he made on this guy, but there you go.

“I know you wouldn't, but that's the difference between me and him. I know you, he doesn't. For all he knew, you could have been a psycho serial-killer.” Ray points out.

“Hm,” Gerard allows as he reaches the gates to the park. “Listen, I’m gonna go now, want to come over in a while?”

“Sure, see you later, Gee.”

After Gerard says his goodbye, he scopes around the park for a free bench. However, since it's a Sunday, everyone and their fucking Grandma from a nine mile radius all happened to be in the park at the exact same time. _Fan-fucking-tastic._

He finally settles on one of the old shitty benches with the dodgy graffiti written all over it. A lot of that ‘ _Call for a good time_ ’ or ‘ _Brendon luvz Ryan 5evaaa_ ’ shit going on. Gerard decides just to ignore it and opens up his sketchbook while taking a sharpened pencil from behind his ear.

The particular sketchbook Gerard has with him is reserved for drawings of landscapes only. He has three altogether. One for landscapes, one for portraits, and one for comics. He liked the neatness of the system, even though he secretly kept a forth one because most of the time he's too lazy to go off and find the designated sketchbook for whatever the fuck he was drawing. _The sneaky bastard_.

While he's flicking through his sketchbook to find an empty page, he finds something slightly off about it. It felt _thinner_. The pages were quite thick, so if one was removed, it could be noticed easily.

He checks the binding. “ _It’s still all intact, nothing could have just fallen out,”_ Gerard's stumped, but he knows that something is missing.

He checks the front cover to read that there’s meant to be fifty pages. Quickly leafing through the pages, he only counts forty-three.

“ _Are you actually shitting me, seven pages are missing?”_

This time, individually going through each page trying to pinpoint which ones might be missing, he notices violent tears on the top of the pages near the binding. He counts them. Seven. Seven remains of drawings in the middle section of his sketchbook.

Gerard isn't angry, just a little upset as those were the ones he bothered to colour in, and he thinks he did a good job, too. Gerard was rarely happy with the outcome of his art, so he feels a pang of loss. _Poor little fella_.

Not feeling in the mood for drawing anymore, he shuts the violated sketchbook, puts the pencil back behind his ear and begins to let his mind wander about The Mystery Of The Seven Stolen Pages.

Just as he was about to voice his conclusion which included Lego men and The Illuminati to nobody in particular, one of the many Grandmas at this fucking Grandmother Expo sits down next to him, smiling down at a sheet of paper.

“Isn’t this incredible?”

_Oh great, it’s one of the talking ones…_

But Gerard is polite, and decides to look at what the old lady is showing him.

 _Oh back the fuck up_.

It's one of _Gerard’s_ drawings. One of the _missing_ ones.

Gerard starts to glare accusingly at the woman, but she's totally oblivious and still smiling down at the drawing. “Um, may I ask where you got that, please?” Gerard asks in the politest tone he could achieve given his mood.

The lady pointed to one of the trees by the lake. “You see that young man under that cherry blossom over there?” Gerard nods, vaguely making out the shape of a man conversing to a couple. “He’s selling them. Only a few left, though, so I suggest you make your way over there fast!”

Gerard’s eyes widen.

_Someone’s fucking selling his drawings?_

_For money?_

_People are actually buying them?_

_**For money?** _

Gerard rushes out a “thank you” to the woman as he dashes down towards the tree. As he nears the crowd, he could see just who was selling them.

_The Lump!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *high fives you all for being so nice about this fic*
> 
> Again, please excuse any mistakes, it's like 12am and yeah. Now's the time I go to sleep and plan out the next few chapters bc I didn't actually think people would be eager to read more.
> 
> Thank you for proving me wrong, though. I hope this is fun for you as much as it's fun for me :3
> 
> Edited - 12/Mar/15 - Hopefully this is all in the present tense now. I think it's more enjoyable to read in the ol' present tense.


	4. Return of Short Dude

_Woah woah woah woah, back the fuck up._

There, right before Gerard’s eyes, is Short Dude. The same Short Dude who was in his bed no more than an hour ago. The same Short Dude who he was momentarily cuddling in with. The same Short Dude whose's wearing Gerard’s favourite Morrissey shirt, the fucker.

As Gerard approaches him, Short Dude, who has a shit-eating grin on, is taking money from a customer who just bought one of Gerard’s drawings. Being at the wrong angle, Gerard can't see exactly see which one it is, but he sees a glimpse of colour. _It's one of the coloured in ones, fuck._

As the customer walks away, it's now Gerard’s turn to face Short Dude. Gerard isn't exactly in the know of just how he's going to confront this situation. It hasn't happened to him in a while. At all, actually, this is all new to him. Aw.

“So, um,” Good start, Gerard, keep going, “…You like Morrissey?” _For fucks sake, Gerard._

Upon hearing Gerard’s voice, Short Dude’s eyes widen. He freezes on the spot, not knowing what to say or do. His mouth keeps opening as if he's about to say something, but quickly shuts it again. _Stop imitating a fucking goldfish and say something to him!_

“U-um, y-yeah. I do a l-lot…” Short Dude practically squeaks out. God, he's so nervous. He starts biting his lip, nearly to the point where it could bleed. Gerard's about to say something to maybe calm him down, but just then another customer comes by. An old lady. _What a surprise!_

There's only two drawings left being displayed leaned up against the cherry blossom tree. _Two_. But still, the old lady takes her sweet time looking at each one. One's of the lake that's in the very park they're standing in, and the other is of a statue of some man on a horse that was meant to commemorate something or other. The fuck if Gerard knows.

The longer the lady's having a fucking staring competition with the drawings, the more on-edge Short Dude becomes. He's visibly shaking with fright and starts writhing his hands together, scraping his nails against his knuckles. He's having a panic attack, and Gerard's able to identify it easily. God knows he gets them regularly enough, and he knows how terrible they can be. He's going to stop it from getting any worse if he can. He isn't just going to stand there and leave the poor guy in misery.

“Hey hey hey,” Gerard soothes while taking a few tentative steps toward Short Dude. “It’s okay, seriously, please just calm down?” Gerard tries, but he hasn't exactly mastered this whole ‘comforting’ business just yet. “I’m not angry or anything, if that’s what you're worried about,”

“I-I’m so s-sorry, I j-just needed the money,” Short Dude blubbers out. He looks so fragile and desperate. How the fuck is Gerard meant be mad at him.

“Yeah, no, I got that much, it's fine, I understand,” Gerard gently places a hand on Short Dude’s shoulder, “you can keep the money you made, all of it, just-”

“Excuse me, young man!” Old Lady shouts _way_ too loud for her own good. _Christ, woman, we’re right next to you, calm the fuck down_.

“Uh, yeah?” Gerard says, trying to keep his cool and calm.

“I’d like to buy this drawing, thank you very much.”

“ _Shit._ ” Gerard hears Short Dude murmur, and the shaking starts up again. Gerard's about to offer to actually make the sale for him, but Short Dude seems to compose himself enough and makes his way to the old lady. He clears his throat.

“Of course!” he exclaims, shit-eating grin appearing again. “Twenty dollars, please ma'am.”

_Holy shit, he's trying to sell my shit for twenty dollars!_

_Twenty._

_What the fuck._

“Forty if you want it signed by the artist,” Short Dude adds. Gerard’s eyes widen at just how fucking suave this guy is all over a sudden. That was a clever move. Short Dude gives him a look that practically screams 'please just roll with it'. Gerard crosses his arms and nods dumbly, trying to go along with this charade. There is no way in hell that this woman is going to throw away $40 like that. Gerard isn't well known, who the fuck cares if it’s signed by the artist? It’s not going to add value to the already valueless drawing.

“Oh, you know the artist?” Old Lady shouts. _Again_ , Gerard thought, _we’re right next to you_. “But of course!” Short Dude shouts back, somewhat imitating the old lady in his own subtle way. It makes Gerard do that laugh that isn't really a laugh. That kind of weird thing people do with their nose. A snort. There we go. Gerard snorts. He ducks his head down to try to hide it, but his shoulders are bobbing up and down, and seriously Gerard, get over it, it isn't all that funny. But Gerard can't help but just laugh at this whole situation. _Why not?_

While Gerard's caught up in laughing at absolutely fucking nothing, he suddenly feels an arm snake over his shoulder. Short Dude! “This is the man himself, Gerard Arthur Way! Studied at SVA in New York. He’s the real deal, and for just $40, you could own this one of a kind masterpiece!” Short Dude is really good at bullshitting, Gerard notes. Even better than him, and that's saying something.

Then something dawns on Gerard. “Wait, how do you know my midd-”

“I’ll take both of them, please. Signed.”

_Oh holy shit._

Before Gerard can comprehend what was happening, Short Dude hands him a pen to sign the two art pieces. Gerard doesn't know the best way of doing this. He's never signed his work, he had no reason to. But alas, here he is, about to sign something that resembles a signature while Loud Old Lady is forking out $80 to hand to Short Dude.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Short Dude says all professional like while Gerard hands the drawings over to her. “No, _thank you_ ,” Loud Old Lady drawls out, still not understanding this whole standing right in front of you concept of speaking.

As she begins to walk away, Gerard can feel the air shift between himself and Short Dude. Short Dude is adamant in not making eye contact with Gerard, Gerard is more focused on how well his Morrissey shirt fits Short Dude.

“So, um,” Oh great, Gerard is trying to small talk. Surely, there are plenty of things to talk about at this stage. Perhaps _‘How did you know my middle name is Arthur?’_ or _‘When did you take those drawings?_ ’ or maybe even a simple ‘ _What is your name?_ ’ But no. This is Gerard we’re dealing with here.

“So, um…you still like Morrissey?” _Oh, Gerard_. Short Guy snaps his head up from counting the money and just kinda gives Gerard this look. A look that says ‘You _are_ really shit at this, aren't you?', but he doesn't look as terrified as he did a few minutes ago, so Gerard counts it as a win.

“Y-yeah,” Short Dude says in a somewhat shaky breath. He inhales for a few seconds, almost as if he's trying to pluck the courage to actually speak. “Yeah, I s-still like him since the l-last time you asked me like f-five minutes ago.” Gerard thinks it's incredible how this guy’s demeanour changed so quickly from a few moments ago. He was so confident and well spoken while selling off his paintings, but now while he’s alone with Gerard, that part of him is shying away.

Short Dude swallows loudly, and extends his hand that holds the money. “Look,” he starts. Gerard can see his eyes start to water again. “I know it w-was selfish of me t-to take your drawings to s-sell them to gullible shouty old ladies, I can't e-even imagine h-how long it took you to finish them, s-so here,” he lifts his hand higher, “take the m-money. Please.” Gerard studies the bills in his hand, and holy fuck, Gerard's no math genius, but there's well over a hundred bucks there. If Gerard had known he could make money out of his drawings so easily, he would have stopped working for Dickhead a long time ago. “I d-didn’t take any more drawings, I promise, I was just stuck for cash and p-panicked and-” Gerard can't take this much longer. Short Dude is close to hysterics at this point and looked really fucking vulnerable. Even though it's Spring, it's still bitterly cold ( _something to do with Global Warming or politics_ , Gerard never understood the staggering difference between the two) and Gerard wondered just how freezing Short Dude is, considering he's wearing denim jeans with the knees cut out, and the ever so present conversation starting Morrissey shirt. No jacket or anything.

“Hey, look,” Gerard begins, trying to think of the best way to coin a sentence “if you're so stuck for a place, I guess you can crash in my place. I-I mean, you stayed there for like two months, right?” Gerard asked.

“Um, maybe a month and a half, I think. Sorry,”

“Well, that's just it. You kept the place in great shape. You bought milk. I don't even do that when I’m supposed to,” Gerard's not sure where he's going with his sentence, but okay then.

“I, um, yeah, but no. I can't. S-see ya.” And just like that, Short Dude runs off into the Sea of Grandmothers, leaving Gerard just standing there. He took the money, which Gerard didn't mind, but there's one thing that still bothers him.

“I still don't know his fucking name,” Gerard tells the cherry blossom tree.

The cherry blossom tree doesn't reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the wait!
> 
> EDITED: 24/April/2015, hopefully this is all in the present tense now.


	5. "He likes Morrissey!"

Gerard doesn't have any real reason to stay around at the park after that fiasco, so he makes his way back home.

_Wow,_ Gerard thinks, _imagine if Short Dude took up the offer. He’d be walking next to me right now._

Gerard can't help but think about what might have happened if Short Dude decided to go with him. _What time does he wake up at? How does he like his coffee? Does he even like coffee? What’s his fucking name?_

Literally all his knows is that he likes Morrissey and smokes Marlboros. _Oh shit, the Marlboros!_ Gerard could definitely go for one of them now.

As he rounds the corner for his neighbourhood while fumbling for his lighter, he see's Ray’s car parking outside his house. Gerard quickens his pace just in time to greet Ray while he locks his door secure.

_“_ Hey man,” Ray beams at him. _Fuckin’ ball of sunshine._

Gerard acknowledges him by nodding while inhaling the cigarette. _Relief._

_“_ You look… Disturbed. More so than you usually always do,” Ray notes.

“Mhm, come inside and I’ll fill you in with what happened in the thirty-five fucking minutes I was out.”

Gerard unlocks his front door and hangs up his coat. Ray begins staring down the living room, trying to find anything shady that the squatter left behind.

“The place is immaculate. It’s not even this tidy when you _are_ here. It’s not even this tidy in general. Can you possibly find your squatter again and tell him he can stay over at mine for a while?”

Gerard smirks. “You wouldn't believe how fuckin’ ironic it is for you to say that. Coffee?” he asks.

Ray raises a curious eyebrow at Gerard and then nods, taking up his offer for coffee.

Gerard tells him, from start to finish, just what the actual fuckery happened at the park. From the Great Wall of Old Ladies to Morrissey, Gerard mentioned everything. Even the fact that this all more or less happened under a cherry blossom tree. He likes cherry blossom trees.

“Wait, you fucking offered him a place here?”

_“_ Well, yeah. Why not? He didn't do any damage last time…” Gerard drifts away, admitting it probably wasn't a very safe thing to do, “…but this is Short Dude we’re talking about here. Harmless.”

“You don't even fucking know that!”

“He likes Morrissey!”

“That's not a plausible reason!”

“It is so!” Gerard gets touchy when it comes to Morrissey.

“Gerard,” Ray groans, bringing his hands up to his eyes and rubbing them harshly, trying to make sense of the situation, “… Does Mikey know about this?”

_Not a fucking chance in hell is he letting Mikey know about this._ He’ll tell their Mother, and even though Gerard is a thirty-year-old man, he doesn't want to hear what his Mom has to say about the matter.

“I’m taking this silence as a no then, right?”

Gerard nods slowly, defeated.

_“_ I don't know what the fuck I’m doing,” Gerard sighs out.

“Yeah, I figured that. And you wanna know what I think? I think your just lonely. So how about me and you go out and get some pizza. Catch up. I haven't seen you in about two months, and I’m sure you have some more thrilling anecdotes about your dickhead of a boss, right?” Ray smirks knowingly. Gerard always bitched about Dickhead to him.

And yeah. Gerard like the thought of Ray’s idea.

“Let’s get going then,”

 

*

The two men decide to walk to the pizzeria. Well, Ray did.

“ _Come on, Gerard, it’s only down the street, you’ll survive!”_

_“No, fuck you, Raymond, I’m exhausted,”_

_“If you don't come, I’ll tell Mikey.”_

This shuts Gerard up efficiently.

They make it to the pizzeria without incident, and the two settle for window seats. Gerard starts fiddling with the salt shakers because he is actually a five a year child, and Ray orders a large pizza for them to split.

“Hey,” Ray started, “look who’s over there,” and points to a girl glancing down at her phone sitting at the table to Gerard’s left.

_Shit, it’s_ _Kristin_.

_As in Mikey’s girlfriend Kristin._

_And if she’s here, then he probably is too._

Gerard thinks that if he was in a shitty sitcom right now, he’d do the thing where the character looks directly into the camera with an exasperated look while it zooms and gets a close up of his face. Gerard compares his life to a sitcom a lot.

And just like that, Mikey emerges from the wall with eyes honing onto Gerard like a missile. _He just knows that something is up._

_“_ So, Gee,” Mikey begins, pulling his seat up to Gerard and Ray’s table, “What happened and do I need to tell our sweet Mother?” _Fuck you, Mikey._

_“_ Um, what makes you think something happened?” Gerard tries his best to say this without his voice squeaking. But alas, he fails.

“Because you didn't deny that something happened straight away.” Mikey’s a clever shit.

“I’m not even straight, how do you expect me to deny shit like that?”

“And now you’re trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not, I’m just stating a fact,”

“Tell me what happened or else I’ll call Mom and tell her to get down here. Don't think for one minute that I’m above that.” Miket points a threatening finger.

Gerard lets out a defeated sigh. His mother should no longer be a threat to him, but he knows Mikey isn’t kidding and if he lets it go too long, his Mom will give him _the_ _look_. He just can’t win.

So he re-tells the whole situation he was in. What he saw when he came back from the business trip. Short Dude running out of his bedroom. Gerard walking to the park to clear his mind. Gerard finding Short Dude selling his drawings, Short Dude getting him to sign the pieces and ultimately, Short Dude running off when Gerard offered him a place to stay.

“Wait a second,” Ray cuts in, “you told me you found him sleeping on your couch!”

_Shit_

 “Oh, um, yeah. No. That didn't happen. I may have lied about that…”

“You fucking idiot, how didn't you notice a fucking body in your bed?” Mikey says incredulously.

“This is why I lied in the first place, you’d all make fun of me!” Gerard hides his face behind his hands.

“You deserve it, you fucking moron!” Ray nudges him. This is going to haunt Gerard for a while.

“Yeah, well…” Gerard’s voice trailes off when the waitress comes with Mikey’s and Kristin’s food..

“I can't believe you actually offered him a place to stay. Like, that’s humble of you and all, but you didn't even let Bob stay with you when he was evicted!” Mikey points out, slightly leaning over to Gerard.

Gerard lowers his voice, glances at Kristin, and then fixes his eyes to the ground. “That’s because he was an asshole to you. I didn't want someone like that around…”

Mikey’s face softens, almost surprised that that was the reason Gerard denied allowing Bob to stay with him. But that was a very Gerard thing to do. Still after all of these years, Gerard has always been protective over his little brother. It was true, there was beef between Mikey and Bob, but Mikey didn't drag Gerard into it, and certainly didn't know that was why Gerard kept his spare room to himself.

Mikey straightens himself up, clears his throat and just nods slowly, backing away from Gerard. He didn't need to say anymore. There was nothing left to be said. Just a mutual brotherly silence that they both understood, and Mikey takes his seat back over to his table.

A silence took over the group, the occasional chattering and clattering of other customers reaching their earshot. Gerard resumes to playing with the salt shaker, tipping some over on the table and making shapes with it. _Real mature, Gerard._

As the minutes went by, with Gerard and Ray still waiting for their food, Gerard hears Ray speak up.

“Holy shit, you heard that, right?” he exclaimes with wide eyes, looking out the window.

“Wha-” Gerard slowly came back to reality from his salt art adventures, glancing between Ray and Mikey, who was also alarmed by what was apparently going on.

“Was that a fucking _gun shot_?’ Mikey says with a slightly panicked tone.

Gerard starts looking out the window, for any trace of this gun shot that he didn't actually hear.

“I think so, it sounded pretty close, too,” Ray replies, running his fingers through his hair. Gerard didn't understand why he sounded so god damned frightened, they live in New Jersey, what the fuck do you expect?

And then there it was again, another gun shot, which, holy fucking shit, was quite close. A few moments later, a couple of police sirens could be heard and then in the blink of an eye, were seen racing past the pizzeria, in the direction where Gerard and Ray came from.

Gerard tried to keep his mind out of it, not wanting to think of the possible outcomes of what happens when two gun shots are heard, and instead focuses more on the pizza the waitress just served.

“ _At fucking last_.” Gerard murmurs under his breath, stuffing the pizza into his mouth. He can feel Ray fidget, though. It made him feel slightly uneasy.

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it, we’re still alive and well, right?” Gerard tries to catch Ray’s eyes, but he was adamant on staring outside the window, absentmindedly nodding his head to what Gerard was saying. Things like this spooked Ray out, which Gerard thought it was unfair of the universe to do that to Ray. Ray has never done any harm to anybody. He is too pure for this world.

After about fifteen minutes or so, Ray starts coming back down to earth, regaining his composure, but seemingly lost his appetite. Gerard gratefully took his half of the pizza, he was fucking starving, but kept on eye on Ray. _He gets too lost in his mind for his own good, poor fella._

By the time Gerard had finished the pizza, and Mikey and Kristin had finished their meal, it was about 7:30pm. Both groups had decided that it was time to leave, and Mikey insisted on paying for Gerard’s pizza. Gerard wasn’t sure why, but when Mikey gave him a solemn look, Gerard figured it had something to do with denying Bob. He didn’t realise how grateful Mikey was about it, which makes Gerard feel like a good big brother.

After the brother’s said their goodbyes, with Mikey sneaking in a ‘ _I won’t tell Mom about this”,_ they head off to their different destinations, Mikey and Kristin walking hand in hand up the street, while Gerard and Ray made their way down the street, simply walking next to each other.

Ray doesn't seem as jittery as he was a while ago, but you could tell the gunshots were still filtering in his mind. “You sure you’re okay, man? You can stay over if you want?” Gerard offers.

Ray purses his lips in thought, actually considering it, but decides against it. “Nah, man, I’ll be fine. You’re probably gonna sleep for a millennium anyway, you’re no fun,” Ray sticks his tongue out a Gerard, and there we go, Ray is smiling again. The balance in the world has been restored.

Gerard grins back, fumbling for his keys as they round the corner into Gerard’s neighbourhood, orange streetlights illuminating the cul-de-sac. Gerard can see his breath under the amber glow. _Ah, yes, what a lovely winter we’re having this spring!_

Gerard asks Ray if he wanted to come inside for coffee or whatever, but he takes his car keys out and declares he best be getting home soon. He thanks Gerard for hanging out with him, and makes his way over to his car, starts it up and beeps the horn as he leaves. Gerard waits until Ray’s car was out of sight before he goes inside. _Fuck, it's cold._

He pulls his jacket over him in a lame attempt to keep himself warm for another few seconds before he retreats to his duvet for the next seven hundred years. _So fucking exhausted, Christ._ How Gerard is still awake is beyond him, he’s pretty proud of himself for making it this far.

But, as Gerard sticks the key into the lock, he can hear the faint sounds of someone sobbing. Very muffled, as if they were crying into a pillow to try to stifle the act, but their attempt was futile.

_Did I leave the God damned television on again? No wonder your energy bills were sky high last time, you fucking idiot._

However, when Gerard opens the door, he wasn’t greeted by the glow he was expecting to be emitted from the television. No, there is complete darkness, apart from the street lights shining in through the window.

Instead, he's greeted by a figure, head buried in one of the couch cushions, knees curled up to their chest, trying to steady their breathing.

“Um, hello?” Gerard whispers to the crying figure. He was going to approach this delicately. Well, as delicately as what's possible for Gerard, anyway.

For a brief moment, the sobbing noises stops, and the shaking ceases, as if the figure was contemplating answering Gerard back. Gerard wasn't expecting a ‘ _Hey, Gerard, how’re you?’_ , but any little contribution would have been nice.

Instead, the figure just holds themself tighter, takes a deep breath and shakes their head. Gerard notices the outline of a rucksack on the floor, leaning up against the coffee table opposite the couch, slightly open, but seemingly almost empty of contents.

“Um, is it okay if I turn on the light?” Gerard directs at the figure. Gerard made sure to look closely for their answer, for a slight shake or nod of the head, but they remain completely still. Gerard walks closer to the light switch, and there isn't any protesting, so he guesses it's okay. “I’m going to turn it on, alright?” Gerard asks once more, searching the wall for the switch before locating it. Gerard mentally counts down from three in his head before flicking it on.

As the room takes its sweet time to light up, (‘ _thanks to those god damned energy saver light bulbs’)_ Gerard’s eyes are fixed on the man who appears on his couch.

But not just any man.

_The Lump has returned!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if wanna know ahead of time for updates, or if you have any questions or prompts for upcoming fics, follow my tumblr: rad-loser.tumblr.com! Thank you for reading :3


	6. Fuckin' Hand Tattooes

_“_ Oh,” Gerard says exceptionally casual, almost as if he was anticipating finding this nameless man crying his eyes out on his couch. Gerard mentally high fives himself for not freaking out _. Good on you, Gerard._

Self-praising aside, Gerard still has to deal with the sobbing man on his couch. _Hey, maybe this time I’ll find out his fucking name!_

Gerard takes a few tentative steps towards him, trying to retain his cool and calm, and reaches out a hand. “Hey man, are you okay? Did something happen?”

Short Dude seems to be clutching onto something for dear life, and as Gerard nears closer, he makes it out to be a photo frame. Short Dude seems fairly adamant on hiding the actual photograph though, and makes sure he's the only one who can see it by pressing it against his chest. Gerard takes a step back, he doesn't want to be invasive.

Gerard's at a loss of what he was meant to do. Maybe Short Dude decided to take up the offer after all, and has come to live with Gerard for a while. But that doesn’t explain why he’s crying.

Gerard sits on the armrest opposite Short Dude. He doesn't want to get too close to him, but at the same time he just wants to give him a fucking hug. He looks like he's in dire need of one, just sitting there, looking so defenceless and tiny, still wearing Gerard’s Morrissey shirt, although Gerard isn't referring to it as _his_ shirt anymore. It now belongs to Short Dude. He ain’t even mad.

Gerard thinks that this would be as good as any to ask for his fucking name. It’s been such a fucking mystery. And you know what’s even weirder to Gerard? All of this shit happened _all in one day._ From finding him in his bed, finding him in the park and finally, finding him crying on his couch, this has all happened under the same twenty-four hours. _What the actual fuck!_

“So, um,” Gerard furrows his eyebrows, “Can I ask what your name is? I mean, usually you find that out _before_ you wake up next to them, buuut…” Gerard trails off in a condescending tone when he catches a slight smirk form on Short Dudes mouth, but it quickly disappears when he tries to meet his eyes. _Why is this guy so terrified?_

Short Dude dries his eyes on his sleeve and tries to compose himself. He takes a few deep breaths before quietly responding with “Frank. My name is Frank.”

_He finally has a name!_

Gerard thinks about the name and how well it suits him. He looks like a Frank. To Gerard, slightly out grown hair, magnificently arched eyebrows, hazel eyes that anyone could get lost in and a prominent jaw line that he could probably kill a man with if he wanted to just practically screams the name _Frank_ at him. He’s surprised he didn’t see it before.

“Okay, Frank. Um, are you okay? I mean, obviously you’re not, but, um,” _What the fuck am I meant to say?_ “What are you doing here?” Gerard thinks that sounded too harsh. “Not that I mind, but yeah…”

Frank blinks back a few tears. “I, um, I felt really shitty for running away like that. At the park. With the money. I, um,” Frank takes a deep breath in through his nose, “I didn’t mean to do that. So here.”

Frank proceeds to lean down to pick up the rucksack hunched on the floor. He seems to contemplate his next move, quickly glancing at Gerard before swiftly stuffing the picture frame he was grasping onto into one the front pockets and zipping it back up.

He then reaches into the main compartment part of the bag and pulls out a wad of cash, quickly leafing through the bills, silently counting it before holding it out for Gerard to take.

Gerard just stares at Frank’s hand. Not even at the money, but at his actual hand. _It’s tattooed, holy fuck!_

“No, um. I m-mean. No thanks. I told you that you can keep it. I meant it. I d-don’t mind. Honestly.” Gerard stammers out, eyes still fixed on Frank’s hand, studying the letters he could make out on the knuckles. It read ‘W E E N’, and then slightly below that, ‘O K Ø M’. Maybe Gerard could ask about them later. They interest him.

Frank hesitates before lowering his arm slightly, looking slightly dazed. “No, seriously, please, it will just be on my conscious for the rest of the week. I feel awful about it,” he faintly moves towards the armrest that Gerard is still sitting on and extends his arm again, “as soon as I realised that I still had it, I ran back to the park, but I think you left by then. Everywhere I looked, there were just old ladies everywhere. I’m pretty sure I could still hear the shouty one that bought your two last drawings. It was terrifying!” He raises his arms in mock exasperation with a slight smirk until he realised that was still holding the money.

“I figured the best way to give it back to you was to just go to your house…” Frank looks away, conflicted about what he was going to do next.

 He scoots towards Gerard some more and firmly grasps his hand, places the cash in it and closes it into a fist, before quickly shying away again. Gerard will admit, he liked the contact. He could briefly feel the calloused tips of Frank’s fingers, and how soft his palms were. Gerard wonders if he moisturises, and what kind does he use, because it is simply working wonders for him. Gerard has a lot of questions about Frank.

Frank goes back to his position on the other end of the couch, knees folded up against his chest while he hugs his tummy, willing himself not to start crying again. He thumbs start twiddling together harshly as he tries to steady his breathing again. “I’m sorry, I-I really am.”

Gerard glances down at the money in his fist, not feeling nice that it was now in his possession. Something in his stomach churnes, and he feels like he just stole the money from Frank, even though, technically, it’s been the other way around.

Gerard lazily tosses the money onto the coffee table across from him and sat up off the arm rest. He checks the time on his phone. _7:02pm. This day has been the longest fucking day of my life._

Gerard scratches the back of his head. “Is this why you’re crying? You felt bad about taking off with the money?”

Frank’s face went a slightly darker shade. “It has something to do with that, yes. But um, also,” Frank pulls his sleeves over his arms before continuing. “When I was on my way over here, I was just minding my own fucking business, and some dude grabs me by the back of my neck." _Oh fuck, drama!_ "And like, I was fucking terrified. His buddy took my bag,” he glances at the rucksack, “and emptied it out on the ground. There wasn’t much in there, really. But your money was in there, and I would have been so fucking devastated if they took it. I would have felt guilty knowing that I never got it back to you.”

“Of course, when they found the money, they were compelled to take it, and honestly, I was going to let them, _I had a gun up against my fucking temple_ ,” Frank shudders and lets out a shaky breath, “I didn’t fight them for it, I figured that I could possibly come up with the money some other way? I don’t know.”

“But, then, um, they found a photograph that is very important to me,” _That must be what’s in the picture frame,_ “And I must've made a face or something that gave away that it means, um, a lot to me. They knew that was my weak spot, and, um, they started taunting me about it. Asking who it is in the photo, started calling me a faggot and whatnot…” Frank trailed off to take a breath. Gerard figured whoever it is in the photo must be a boyfriend or whatever if the muggers began calling him a fag about it. Or, more likely an ex, if Frank is living on the streets. Or else he just had a really shitty boyfriend. He wasn’t going to pry into it, though. Or maybe just not this soon. He kinda wants to know, the curious bastard.

“So, um,” Frank clears his throat, “when one of the guys told me they were going to break the photo frame and rip the photo, I got one helluva crazy adrenaline rush and kicked the guy holding the gun to my head in the ol’ nards. Man, it was crazy. He drops the gun to clutch his nuts, and I get a hold of the gun.”

“Now, I’ve never fuckin’ held a gun in my life, I didn’t know what I was doing, and I didn’t plan on doing anything either, but I pointed it at the guy who had the photo frame in an attempt to scare him to put it back? I don’t fuckin’ know,” he does an over exaggerated shrug. Gerard decides he like how this guy tells stories. He really puts emotion into it, using his hands ( _his fucking beautiful hands)_ when necessary or when he wants to get a point across. But seriously, Gerard shouldn't be drifting off about Frank’s hands. However, when Gerard does come back to earth, he hears a sentence he really wishes he knew the context for.

“So then I shot at him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edited 22nd June 2015 to be in the present tense holy heck I am so slow in doing this*
> 
> Comment something nice to make a kid you've never met happy and giggly.
> 
> -RadLoser


	7. "No takesie backsies!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank get's that hug he wanted.

“ _So then I shot at him.”_

 

Gerard’s eyes widen as he tunes in just in time to hear Frank utter those words. He brings a hand to cover his mouth which has practically dropped down to the fucking floor. He's frozen in his spot, just looking at the small man in front of him, trying to process that he actually shot someone. He could almost hear Ray next to him saying “ _I told you so, just because he likes Morrissey, doesn’t mean he’s a great citizen.”_ Fuckin’ Ray, man.

 

Gerard’s mouth goes dry. “Um, could you repeat that last sentence again?”

 

Frank eyes him nervously. “I, um, I shot at him. The one that took the photograph. Him. But, uh, he shot at me first, so…” Frank knew that wasn’t a very good reason behind his sudden behaviour not long ago, two wrongs don’t make a right or whatever, but he fucking panicked, leave him alone.

 

“Wait, he shot you?” Gerard takes a step closer towards Frank, scanning his eyes up and down his body trying to find any evidence of this apparent bullet wound. “Do you need to go to hospital? Fuck, Frank, why didn’t you tell me sooner, I could’ve-“

 

Frank cuts Gerard off with a chuckle. He actually finds it funny how flustered Gerard is getting. “No, Gerard, calm down, _no one was actually shot._ Just shot at.” _Ah, yes, because that sounds so much better!_ “The gun was shot in their general direction, but not that their actual body. Same with me, although it was pretty close to my ear. I’m pretty sure I went deaf in it for awhile. But I’m fine. Just shaken.” Frank rubs his eyes harshly and squeezes them shut for a few moments. “I just came to drop the money back to you, I wasn’t even gonna let myself in, just maybe stick it in your mailbox or whatever, but then I heard the police sirens and…” Frank starts playing with his sleeves again, becoming shyer in front of Gerard again, “…and I got scared and hid in here. I’m sorry.”

 

Gerard's relieved to hear that Frank didn’t actually kill anyone, which is generally a good trait to have. But he's obviously still slightly traumatised about the whole ordeal, and Gerard didn’t like the idea of Frank walking around the streets knowing that there’s two guys that are probably out to get revenge on the poor fella.

 

Gerard reassesses the situation. Frank is the good guy. He was on his way to return the money that Gerard said he could keep. He has a kind heart. Or maybe just a guilty conscious. But either way, he's here in Gerard’s living room, trying to control his sobs.

 

“So,” Gerard starts, “you’re okay? I mean, like, you’re not hurt or anything? You know that offer is still open, right?” Gerard tells him, referring to the proposition he made earlier.

 

Frank looks away from Gerard, eyes fixing on the ground. This time he really thinks about the offer at hand, and what it would be like living under the same roof as Gerard. There really isn't any harm in it, he thinks. He knows where everything is, knows what brands Gerard buys, and knows where he keeps the spare key (underneath the potted plant outside, rookie mistake, how else would have Frank have gotten in in the first place?)

Gerard thinks about it, too. What it would be like having another being in the house. The last time he lived under the same roof with other people was back home with his parents and Mikey. That was about seven years ago. He never did the whole “college roommate” shtick, either. When he attended SVA, he didn’t stay on campus, just simply road the train back home. He couldn’t afford the accommodation they offered.

 

When he realised he couldn’t depend on his mommy and daddy much longer after he graduated from art school, he decided to find the shittiest apartment he could. Granted, it was about a ten minute walk away from his parents’ house anyway, but he still felt justified knowing he was out on his own. _He was a man now._

 

He and Mikey even talked about getting a flat together for a while, but when Gerard managed to hold down his assistant job, he was constantly going to be away on business trips, so there wasn’t really much point in it anymore.

 

Because of his job, Gerard never had the time or strength to pursue a relationship. He was basically the embodiment of that Freddie Mercury song. Living On My Own. Great song, that was, too. Gerard just wished he didn’t relate to it so much.

 

“Um, hello?” Gerard's broken from his trail of thought by Frank waving his hand in front of his eyes. _Holy shit, where did you come from?_ Gerard gracefully flails his arms in front of him and trips back onto the couch behind him, landing on his ass.

 

“That was a bit of a delayed reaction, there,” Frank smirks, “I expected you to freak out the minute you walked in the door, not over half an hour later.”

 

Gerard purses his lips, trying to contain a smile, but ultimately failing when Frank reaches out a hand to help Gerard back up. “Yeah, sorry about that, I spaced out. Thanks.” He murmurs as he grasps Frank’s hand, pulling him to his feet.

 

“So I’m guessing you didn’t hear what I said then?” Frank quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Nope. Would you be as kind as to repeat for me?”

 

“I, um, said, I said is it really okay for me to stay? Even just for a little while. You keep that money as, I don’t know, my rent or something. Any money I manage to earn goes straight to you? We can work something out?”

 

Gerard nods along with what Frank was saying. He doesn't mind how long Frank needs to stay, and he doesn't mind if Frank wants to help out from time to time, but he doesn't want to keep the money that he made selling his paintings. It wasn’t necessary, Gerard had gotten paid for his business trip already, so he was doing pretty well for himself financial wise. When he tells Frank this, he disagrees profusely.

 

“No way, man, I almost got mugged on my way trying to give it to you, don’t you dare try to give it back now. I didn’t even mean to take it in the first place. It was yours from the beginning,”

 

“I told you to keep it, you were just taking what was yours,” Gerard counters.

 

“But I don’t want it.”

 

“I don’t want it either.”

 

“Oh my God, I never thought they’d come a day where I’d actually deny money. What the fuck,” Frank runs a hand through his hair.

 

“Then don’t deny it, here,” Gerard collects the bills from the table and extends his hand to Frank. “Just take it.”

 

“No,” Frank says, crossing his arms like a stubborn child, stomping a foot on the ground while doing so.

 

If a child is what Frank is gonna be, then a child is what Frank is gonna get. Gerard has this art perfected to a tee, don’t even test him on this for a moment.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Gerard insists, this time actually throwing the money at Frank’s chest. “No takesie backsies.” He adds while sticking his tongue out. The world would collectively sigh at Gerard if it knew the depths of his immaturity.

 

Frank left the money fall to the ground, even kicking it aside to prove his point of _not wanting to keep it._

 

“I’m not picking that up,” Frank says indifferently.

 

“I’m not either,” Gerard matches his tone.

 

“So your just gonna leave $200 on the ground?”

 

“It would appear so.”

 

“God, you’re childish.”

 

“God, you catch on quickly.”

 

Frank's about to answer him, when a yawn overtakes his sentence. It was only now that Gerard noticed just how fucking exhausted Frank looks. He had every reason to. Gerard somewhat rudely woke him up this morning from his slumber. He's guessing a mugging probably took a lot out of you, too. And if it wasn’t those two, then crying a lot would definitely take its toll out of your energy. This guy needed some sleep.

 

“Hey, I’ll set up the spare bedroom for you, kay? You go make a snack from whatever you find in the cupboards. Or a drink. Just,” Gerard flails his hands helpfully, “make yourself at home, alright?”

 

Frank nods slowly, the realisation hitting him that he actually has a place to play, at least for a little while. He heads towards the kitchen while Gerard heads up stairs to make up the spare bedroom.

 

For the month and a half that Frank squatted in Gerard’s house, he was always on edge about what would happen if he was caught. What usually happened in the past was that Frank would either get chased out or the cops were called, and he’d leg it out before they came. The last thing Frank expected was to be offered a place to stay as long as he needed, along with $200 that he didn’t want to take being left on the floor. He was actually refusing money. _Well, there’s a first time for everything,_ he supposes.

 

Frank decides all he needs is a glass of water. His appetite just isn't there, and he really wanted to go to sleep so coffee wouldn’t be very ideal. It was probably no more than eight o’ clock, but he's all for sleeping into the next millennium. He can and he will. Don’t question him.

 

He notices Gerard coming down the stairs, looking down at his phone, rolling his eyes as he receives a text. " _Fuckin’ Ray, man,”_ he hears him whisper to himself. When he looks up and see's Frank with just a glass of water, he asks if he wants any food.

 

“Nah, man, I’m fuckin’ exhausted,” he yawnes as if to prove his point, “is the spare room ready?”

 

“Yeah, as long as you don’t mind sleeping in a Star Wars duvet set. If you want, there’s some of my old pyjamas in one of the drawers in the wardrobe. Feel free to wear them, we can go shopping for more stuff tomorrow using _your_ $200.” Gerard smiles smugly.

 

“It’s _your_ money!”

 

“Hmm, alright then. Then we’re going shopping tomorrow to buy you stuff using $200 that I gave to you.”

 

“There is literally no winning when it comes to you, Christ,” Frank places the now empty glass in the sink.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m going to sleep too, so no bitching until tomorrow morning. Or afternoon, whatever time I wake up at,” Gerard shrugs, making his way back up the stairs. “If you need anything, anything whatsoever, just ask, okay?”

 

Frank nods, truly grateful for what Gerard was doing for him here. He decides it was about time to let him know this.

 

“Hey, Gerard?”

 

Gerard stops climbing up the stairs and turns around to look at Frank. “Yeah?”

 

Frank ascends up the stairs, standing three steps below Gerard.

“Just, um, thank you so much for what you’re doing here. I promise I’ll help out as much as I can, but yeah. No matter how many times I say thank you will never compare to how thankful I actually am.”

 

Gerard really wants nothing more than to just hug Frank in that moment. And you know what? He does. He just thought _fuck it,_ steps down two steps and wraps his arms around him. Frank isn't expecting it, but goddamn, after all of the shit he went through today, he just lets it happen. Gerard is a good hugger, too. Not too weak and not too harsh. It's a comfort hug, and Frank kind of hopes he’d be able to experience more of them. Gerard secretly hopes he gets the chance to give them.

 

It lasted a few moments until Frank yawns again, and it just seems to come to a natural stop.

 

They make their way up the rest of the stairs and into the opposite bedrooms.

 

“G’night Frank!” Gerard calls as he closed his door.

 

“Goodnight Gerard!” Frank replies as he turns off the light, climbing underneath the duvet without changing his clothes and soon falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations! I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for over 500 reads, holy heck! It means a lot that people are taking the time out to read this. I feel really accomplished and proud of myself. I'd like to thank Helena Hathaway, a really fantastic author on this site for inspiring to start writing, and if you haven't checked out Helena's work, I strongly urge you to! 
> 
> If anyone wants to leave feedback below, that's coolio too. Or bug me on my tumblr, it's probably the best way to contact me: rad-loser.tumblr.com
> 
> Stay street,
> 
> Radloser x


	8. Fuckin' Ray, man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray was worried that Frank would suffocate Gerard in his sleep.

Gerard wakes up to the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table. _Whadda fuck?_

He sits up groggily, trying process the simple task of picking up the phone, but to no avail. The buzzing abruptly stops, just like Gerard’s will to live at this given moment, and decides for the sake of humanity that it would be best just to go back to sleep.

 

_Then the fucking doorbell decides to join in!_

_“_ Gerard!” a voice from outside yells. “I know you’re in there, either let me in or answer your fucking phone! It’s one in the afternoon, get the fuck up!”

 

Gerard rolls over to face his bedside table and picks up his phone, illuminating the screen. He’s missed four miss calls and received five texts, all from Ray. _Oh, so that’s probably who’s outside._

“M’comin’, hold the fuck on,” Gerard grumbles to the air. He sits up, letting his feet touch the ground while he quickly reads through the texts Ray left him.

 

“ _I’m coming by your house whether you like it or not.”_

_“I’m presuming you’re not awake…?”_

_“Answer your phone, you moron!!”_

_“Do I have to resort to the doorbell? Does it even work?”_

_“Okay yes it does..”_

Just as Gerard was about to lock his phone, another text comes through.

_“Okay nvm ur squatter just let me in :)_ _”_

Gerard’s eyes widen as he reads the last text. He curses at himself for texting Ray about it last night, but he sort of wanted to prove that he is perfectly fine at making judgements based on Morrissey shirts. _That fuckin’ Morrissey shirt._

 

Gerard rushes to look outside his window, and sees that Ray’s car is in fact parked on the curb, but no Ray. _Did Frank actually answer the door?_

When he opens his bedroom door, he could see that the spare bedroom is wide open. Taking a glance inside, eyes fixing on the Star Wars duvet, there isn't the figure of the oh so familiar lump Gerard had become accustomed to underneath it.

 

“Gerard, get your lazy ass down here!” he hears Ray bellow from down stairs, followed by Frank giggling. _Shit._

“I’m coming, sheesh,” Gerard shouts back, making his way down stairs. The aroma of coffee reaches his nose instantly, and he silently thanks Frank for learning how to use the coffee machine.

 

When he reaches the kitchen, he's greeted with Ray sitting on one of the chairs by the counter top, while Frank is just about to pour coffee into three mugs.

 

“Morning Gerard! Um, what way do you take your coffee?” Frank asks him, looking much more refreshed than he did last night. His eyes look brighter, hair looks washed, and he just generally seems happier. It warms Gerard’s heart a tiny bit.

 

“I like my coffee black, thanks Frank,” he smiles at the shorter man, taking the mug from him and sitting across from Ray. “So,” Gerard says, taking a small sip of his coffee, “what brings you to my humble abode at this fucking hour, Raymond?”

 

“Don’t call me that.” Ray scolds Gerard, reaching over to flick his temple. Gerard is too tired to even comprehend it. Ray continues. “Also, it’s past one in the afternoon, I didn’t think you’d still be asleep. I came over to meet your new buddy,” Ray smirks, glancing over to Frank who has just given Ray his coffee.

 

Frank raises an eyebrow. “You gossiping about me, Gerard?” Frank crackes a smile in his direction, taking a seat next him. “How kind of you.”

 

“Only because Ray said that I shouldn’t automatically trust people just because they’re wearing a Morrissey shirt!” Gerard argues. It was only now he noticed that Frank is still wearing the same Morrissey shirt as yesterday, even though he had a shower. Gerard wasn’t one to judge though, it was a pretty cool shirt, and Gerard often re-wears the same shirts, even without showering in between. Don’t do what Gerard does, kids!

 

“Well, you shouldn’t!” Frank exclaimes, as if it was the most obvious think in the world, which it really was. “Christ Gerard, I should stick around just so you don’t end up wandering into a white van with _Free Morrissey Merch_ spray painted onto it.”

 

Ray chuckles at Frank’s comment, nodding to himself as if to say ‘ _Ah yes, I like this guy._ ’ “Honestly though,” Ray starts up again looking at Frank, “I just came by to make sure you aren't a threat to Gerard. Like, that you aren’t gonna kill him in his sleep or whatever.”

 

Gerard smiles at Ray’s reasoning for being here. Sure, he played it off as no big deal, but he probably slightly panicked when Gerard texted him last night about allowing Frank to stay with him. He received texts such as ‘ _gerard, i really hope u know what ur doing’, ‘i am pretty sure lots of evil men also enjoy listening to morrissey do not take this risk pls’_ and Gerard’s favourite, _’lock ur bedroom door shut so he can’t suffocate u”_

“Nah,” Frank waves a hand around dismissively, “I’ve no intentions of violently murdering Gerard, it’s all good.”

“Good enough for me, I guess. Um, what’s with all the money on the ground over there, though?” Ray points to the bills that Frank and Gerard were at a stalemate to claim, the stubborn little shits.

_“_ I told you I’m not picking it up.”

 

“It’s your money!”

 

“Which I travelled all this way to give back to you.”

 

“Which I gave to you. As… I don’t know, a birthday present?”

 

“My birthday’s not until Halloween.”

 

“Late birthday present then.”

 

Ray listens as the two men sitting across from him squabble about the scattered money on the ground until it all clicks. Gerard had texted him last night giving him minimum details, but he said something about Frank returning money back to Gerard. Ray figured that it must be the money that Frank ran off with at the park after selling Gerard’s drawings.

 

He can see where they were both coming from. _Frank_ made the money himself, but from selling _Gerard’s_ pictures. But _Frank_ needed the money more than Gerard did, and Gerard let him keep it in the first place. He thinks Frank should just accept it and move on.

 

“ _So!_ ” Ray brakes up their little quarrel, “any plans today?”

 

“Frank and I are going to the mall so he can spend _his_ money that’s on the ground over there.” Gerard states simply, taking a gulp from his coffee in an _‘end of discussion’_ kind of manner.

 

“I can’t believe I agreed to living with this man. Can you even be considered a man, I don’t think you developed mentally past the age of eight.”

 

“Five actually, thank you very much,” Gerard smirks. He thinks about how relaxed Frank is acting around him, at least in this moment anyway. He seems comfortable with him, which is a staggering difference compared to last night.

 

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Ray murmurs while standing up, placing his mug in the sink. “I have work at 2:30 so I better get going. Uh, It was nice meeting you, Frank. See ya, Gee!”

 

Frank just nods, while Gerard utters a _‘See ya’_ back. He watches while Ray closes the door behind him, and then looks down into his coffee mug, drinking the last few dregs at the bottom.

 

“What does Ray work as?” Frank asks as he stands up to get the coffee jug, topping up his mug and then gesturing to Gerard if he wanted more. Gerard nods, gladly accepting the offer while muttering a ‘ _thank you’_.

 

“Um,” Gerard starts, wrapping his hands around his mug in an attempt keep them warm, “he teaches guitar to little kids and teenagers. He’s really good at it, too. He even tried to teach me, but I’m hopeless,” he smiles weakly, half embarrassed of the memories of Ray trying to teach him _Sweet Home Alabama. Trying_ being the key word there.

 

“Oh yeah?” Frank’s eyes light up before a sombre quality overtake his features. “I used to play guitar. A lot, actually. I was in a band. I haven’t played in, um, probably over a year now? Yeah…” he sighs. Gerard can't take just how miserable he became in those few seconds. He doesn't know anything about Frank’s past, but guitar obviously means a lot to him.

 

“Hey,” Gerard has an idea, “how about the next time Ray comes over, I’ll ask him to bring over a couple of guitars and you two can jam out together? He won’t mind at all.”

 

“Really? He won’t mind it?” Frank says, trying to not let it show how excited hearing that makes him feel, but failing to do so. Gerard smiles at Frank’s behaviour. _This guy is kinda adorable._

“He’ll be more than happy to do it. He’s been in a few bands himself, I’m sure he’d love to play with someone with experience. I’ll ask him to bring them the next time he calls down.”

 

Frank finally lets a toothy smile over take his face with glistening eyes. _Holy shit, his smile,_ Gerard thinks, _it could end wars._

_“_ I know I told you this last night, Gerard, but I’m gonna say it again. Just thank you so fuckin’ much for what you're doing for me here. And yeah, I will find a way to make it up to you somehow. I just don’t think I’ve felt this… I don’t know what the right word for it is, but I guess this secure? Safe? Yeah. I just feel a sense of security, and I haven’t had that in a long time. It’s nice…” Frank becomes quieter during the end of his sentence, but Gerard still picks it all up.

 

“Hey,” Gerard places a hand on Frank’s shoulder, “It’s not a problem. I’ve never really had a roomie or whatever, so having someone else around is all somewhat new to me, but I like it so far. I feel less lonely…”

 

 _Wait no fuck,_ Gerard curses at himself for letting that last bit slip, Frank isn't a fucking therapist who has to deal with his problems, but from the look on his face, he doesn't seem all that surprised to hear it.

 

Frank takes Gerard’s hand from his shoulder and brings it down to hold it in his own, fingers lacing together. “Well, you don’t have to feel lonely anymore, I won’t let you,” Frank gives him a small smile, “I hereby declare that you’re not allowed to feel lonely.”

 

Gerard giggles and ducks his head, suddenly becoming shy hearing Frank’s words. He looks down at their hands, liking the way Frank’s tattooed knuckles stand out even more next to Gerard’s pale and pasty ones.

 

“Thank you, Frank. It means a lot. Truly. Yeah.”

The two men finish their drinks together with fingers laced under the counter top in comfortable silence. When the last of the coffee was drank, Frank takes his and Gerard’s mugs and places them in the sink.

 

“You go get ready, I’ll wash up, okay?” Frank tells Gerard, already running the hot water faucet.

 

“Yeah, okay, I won’t be long,” Gerard replies, heading towards the stairs. As he reaches the top, he hears Frank start humming to himself. He stops for moment, trying to figure out what it is.

 

_Wait a second!_

_“_ Is that First Of The Gang To Die?” Gerard calls down to Frank, anticipating his answer.

 

“Yes you fuckin’ nerd, now go get ready, I wanna spend _my_ $200!”

 

Gerard smiles fondly, glad having won that little debate.

 

 _Yes,_ he decides, _I’m going to like having Frank around._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback this has been getting. It's really cool to me and I would have never have thought that I could accomplish something like this. This is my first fic, after all, but I think I'd like to write more someday.  
> Much love goes out to you all!
> 
> *peace sign*
> 
> Stay street, you mad animals
> 
> RadLoser
> 
> (here is the ol' tumblz in case you wanna say stuff or whatever: rad-loser.tumblr.com


	9. Mikey. Fuckin'. Way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank gets really excited over socks.

Gerard debates whether to drive out to the mall or to just simply walk. He decides to get Frank’s opinion on the matter.

 

Frank scrunches up his face in thought, “I’ve no problem with walking, but you’re gonna have to give me a jacket or something, I have the immune system of a blueberry fuckin’ muffin.”

 

Gerard lets out a breathy laugh at Frank’s comment, heading over to the coat rack to see what would suit Frank best. Admittedly, Gerard owns _way_ too many jackets for just one man. He's a self-renowned _jacket slut_  as he put it, quite proud of coming up with the title.

 

 _Ah ha!_ Gerard thinks when he found just the one. He pulls it out while allowing a few other coats to fall to the ground, because really, one single coat rack wasn’t made for withstand thirty-fucking-six different coats.

 

He holds it at arm’s length, expecting it for any stains or holes, but it seems to be perfect. It's black and slightly puffy with whatever it's stuffed with for insulation. The hood had fake fur lining the inside for maximum ear toastyness. He hadn’t worn it in a few years, but he remembers how cosy he was in it. It was always slightly too big for him, so he can only imagine what it will be like on Frank, but he was eager to find out.

 

“Here,” he said, holding it out to Frank, “this should do the job, it’s super warm, I promise.” Frank accepts the jacket, muttering a _thanks_ before swinging it behind him to slide his arms into the sleeves. Gerard walks back over to the coat rack to retrieve his own jacket, a green parka, which is nowhere near as warm as Frank’s, but it makes him look cool. At least he thinks so, anyway.

 

When he turns around, he see's that Frank has just finished zipping up his coat, shaking his head in an attempt to throw back the hood that was covering half of his face. The sleeves are far too long and the coat itself very well almost reaches his knees. Gerard had to fight very hard not to let out an audible _d’awww_ sound. _This guy is so fucking adorable._

Gerard's cut out from his thoughts from hearing his phone ringing from upstairs. He groans and rolls his eyes, wishing people would just leave him alone for one day, but he proceeds to run up the stairs to catch it anyway. The words _Gerard_ and _run_ should not be coined in the same sentence. _Ever._

Gerard gets to his phone just in time, answering it and not even glancing at the caller ID.

 

“H-hello?” he wheezes. _Man, I’m really out of shape._

_“Did you run a fucking marathon to answer your phone or…?”_ _Mikey Fuckin' Way._

 

“Um basically, yeah. I mean, I ran up the stairs, but that’s sorta the same thing…” Gerard replies, hoping Mikey will be quick with whatever he needs to say. He's actually looking forward to hanging out with Frank. He hopes that he might get to know him better.

 

“You fucking moron! I just- no, I’ll cut to the chase. Is what Ray told me true?” _Fuckin’ Ray, man._

“Um, that depends what he told you…” Gerard can practically hear the eye roll Mikey just gave him.

 

Mikey sighs, “You son of a bitch, stop being so redundant! Just answer me this, are you a hundred percent sure that this Frank dude is safe? I think it’s kind of you to offer him a place and shit, but just because he was wearing a fucking _Morrissey shirt?”_

_“_ Okay, first of all, don’t speak ill of our mother like that, Mikey, she wouldn’t appreciate it. Secondly, Frank is totally safe, Ray even approved of him. Thirdly, _it wasn’t fucking like that!_ He came back to my house to return money that I said he could keep, but he felt bad about it anyway. We’re just about to go to the mall so he can spend it on whatever he needs, so if you’ll excuse me…”

 

Gerard hears the faint sound of Mikey protesting as he brings his phone down to dismiss the call. “ _Gerard Way I swear to God if you hang up o-” Whoops a daisy!_

Gerard stuffs his phone into one of his jeans pockets and goes downstairs, only to find Frank staring idly at the photos on his mantelpiece. Most of them are of Gerard during his time at art school, totally blissed out that he was actually attending the school of his dreams. It’s just a shame that his art never really took off, with him taking the assistant job and all. He doubt he could make a living out of selling his art to shouty old ladies at the park every Sunday, but hey, it could be an interesting side project, right?

 

“You ready to go, Frank?” Gerard calls out to the smaller man. Frank swoops around as if he wasn’t expecting Gerard to be in his own fucking house. A small blush forms across his face, feeling slightly embarrassed that he got caught looking at the photographs, but he swiftly hides behind his over-sized hood.

 

“Uh, yeah. S-sorry,” he replies, even though he isn’t all that sure what he's apologising for. Gerard isn’t either, but he just waits for Frank to walk closer before he grabs his keys and opens the front door. Frank follows him out and closes the door behind him, Gerard locking it after.

 

“You have the money with you, right?” Gerard asks, zipping up his parka.

 

“Do you really think that I’d forget about $200 just lying on the floor?” Frank cocks an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Man, I feel like I just won the lottery, this is the most money I’ve had in my possession for _months_. I don’t even know how to spend it. Like, clothes are a must but I don’t wanna mess up your laundry…”

 

Gerard notices that Frank is always worried about what repercussions his actions would have on Gerard. Gerard understood why, they're relatively strangers and maybe he's just trying to be polite, but honestly, they're living with each other now, loosen up a bit.

 

“It’s fine, Frank,” Gerard chuckles, “buy as many clothes as you want, it’s not a problem. If you’re really stuck about it, I’ve no problem with you borrowing mine. I have a feeling I’m not getting that Morrissey shirt back, though.”

 

“Not a fuckin’ chance, it’s mine now!” Frank pulls down his hood and sticks his tongue out at Gerard. Gerard just rolls his eyes, not wanting to give in to his inner five year old, but ultimately failing when he decides last minute to flick Frank’s temple. Frank returns the gesture, and the whole way they walked to the mall, two grown men could be seen giggling, flicking each other’s temple, and then giggling again. It's all fun and games until Frank suddenly came to a stop. _Oh, drama!_

 

Gerard turns to look at him only to see that his eyes are wide and he starts tugging nervously at his lip ring. His eyes are fixed on two men who are holding hands, looking in at a store window. “ _Mother. Fucker.”_ He hears Frank growl to himself with gritted teeth.

 

“Uh, Frank? Everything okay?” Gerard asks him, slightly frightened by Frank’s sudden change of mood.

 

Frank takes a deep breath. “You see those two guys over there?”

 

Gerard nods.

 

“Well, the fucker on the left is my ex, whatever, but the fucker on the right is my high school bully. And you know what he bullied me for? _For being gay.”_ Frank leaves out a breathy laugh, but he's not the least bit amused by what he see's in front of him. He seems livid.

 

“Well, if you wanna go somewhere else, it’s fine, I mean, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortab- _”_

_“_ Play along.” Frank tells Gerard, rolling up his sleeve and taking Gerard’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. Gerard is all for playing along.

 

“Evan! Mark!” Frank calls out, voice oozing with fake enthusiasm and a smile faker than that of a Barbie doll. Gerard's impressed.

 

The two men turn around upon hearing their names being called, demeanours soon shifting into a look of surprise when they saw just who it was calling them. “Frankie?” Evan, or Left Fucker as Gerard knows him as, calls out.

 

“Long time no see!” Frank gestures wildly at the both of them with the hand not holding Gerard’s, fake smile still prevalent. Gerard thinks that Frank should pursue an acting career or something, he was even fooling Gerard.

 

“Wait, you know Frank?” Fucker Two, Mark, asks Evan.

 

“Ha, yeah,” he clears his throat, “we actually used to date… Small world, huh?” he brings a hand up and runs it through his hair before saying “Wait, how do _you_ know him?”, narrowing his eyes slightly at his boyfriend.

 

“We, uh, we went to high school, right Frank? Aw man, I guess I sorta gave you a hard time. Teenagers, huh?” he shrugs, almost as if he was implying ‘ _ha, happens to the best of us, amiright?’._ Frank looks like he wants to punch the man.

 

“I distinctly remember you “giving me a hard time” for being gay,” Frank smiles sweetly, doing the quotations marks with fingers on both hands, dragging Gerard’s hand up in the air with his. Whatever this guy did to Frank during those years must’ve been rough, considering he still held a grudge against the man after all this time.

 

Mark blushes, seemingly embarrassed that this was all being said in front of his boyfriend. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly and said “Ha, yeah, funny how that turned out…”

 

“ _Fuckin’ hilarious!”_ Frank exclaims, barking out a fake laugh. He slightly hesitates his next move, wondering if Gerard would allow it, but in the end his conscious decided _fuck it,_ and leans up towards Gerard, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Well, I guess we all got what we wanted in the end, right?”

 

Gerard's kind of bummed out that they're just doing this for show, because he really, _really_ likes the way Frank just kissed him just now. It was so sweet and innocent, even if it was for revenge purposes or whatever this was called. But then he thinks back to earlier, when they held hands while they finished their coffee. That was just the two of them. Alone. Holding hands for no other reason than to just _hold hands._

 

Gerard unlaces his hand with Frank’s and slides it around his waist, pulling him closer to his side. “I did, anyway,” Gerard states, planting a kiss on top of Frank’s head, making the most of this opportunity as he can. _You’ve literally known the man for a day, Gerard. What the fuck?_

 

Frank smiles to himself, and revelled in the sensation of being this close to Gerard. He wondered how long he could make Gerard play along for _. Will he stop the moment we walk away from Evan and Mark? Will he keep it up the whole time we’re at the mall? Until we get back to his house?_ Frank didn’t know, but he's going to drag it out for as long as he can.

 

“Well, we best be getting along now,” Frank says, placing his own arm around Gerard’s waist. He even has himself convinced that they’re actually a couple. _Man, I’m good,_ he thinks.

 

Frank doesn't even wait for Evan’s for Mark’s response, and instead takes a slight step away from Gerard, only to link their arms together. “Skip with me,” he whispers into Gerard’s ear.

 

“What?” Gerard asks, making sure he heard him right.

 

“Just do it, it will look odd as fuck,” Frank replies, and that was good enough for Gerard.

 

And they do. They skip away from Fucker One and Fucker Two. Fuckin’ frolicked away from them. If watching two grown men flick each other in the temple while they made their way to the mall wasn’t enough, watching them skip together arm in arm at the said mall surely was.

 

“C’mon, Frank,” Gerard says up while they start at a normal pace again, arms still linked, “let’s go shopping!”

 

 ***

 

        Frank was adamant about going into every store. _Every. Fucking. Store._ Even the ones that didn’t necessarily apply to them, such as one store that sold exercise machines (‘ _I’ve never seen a treadmill up close before.’)_ and a mothers maternity store (‘ _I like the smell of stuff in here, quit bitching.’)._

The whole time while Frank and Gerard went from store to store, they were idly holding hands. Neither of them really even noticed, and if they did, they just let it happen. _It’s just a comfort thing,_ Gerard tells himself, _he wants to feel safe, and I don’t want to feel lonely. Whatever._

 

By the time it was half three, Frank had spent most of his money. He seems pretty proud of the fact that he now owns more than one pair of jeans and a plethora of plaid flannels, along with the other essentials such as socks and underwear. He even bought himself a pair of high top Chucks, which he was exceptionally giddy about, telling Gerard ‘ _the last pair I had was when I was about fifteen, and I thought it would be cool to throw them into a fuckin’ bonfire.’_ Okay then.

 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe it. _Matching socks,_ Gerard. Do you know the last time I had matching socks? Never. Even as a kid. I just don’t know where the fuck the other sock decided to go, but I never had matching socks. Look at me now, eh? _Ten._ Ten pairs of matching socks. I’m on top of the world.”

 

Gerard chuckles at Frank’s enthusiasm about _socks_ , and offers to hold some of the bags Frank's trying his best to keep in his left hand. His right was _still_ holding onto Gerard’s. Gerard smiles fondly at their laced fingers.

 

“Nah, man, I got this, I wanna pretend to be rich,” Frank smirks at his bags, clutching onto the handles as if his life depended on it.

 

“Yeah, well, I want to pretend that I’m fully awake, so let’s go get coffee,” Gerard follows up, steering Frank into the direction of the nearest Starbucks.

 

Gerard _(unfortunately)_ had to let go of Frank’s hand to hold the door open for him to squeeze through with his armour of shopping bags. He scopes the area for a free table and spots one in the corner.

 

“Hey, go grab that empty table back there, I have a loyalty card here so I’ll get the drinks for cheaper. Anything in particular you want?”

 

“Um,” Frank's still kind of hesitant asking for things off of Gerard, but decides to just go with it if it meant they could possibly hold hands while they sat with their drinks. “Just an Americano, please.

 

“Cool, I’ll be right back,” Gerard smiles at him, and turns to walk over to the queue. There aren't many people, but they had trainee staff on duty, so Gerard knew he was going to be here for a while. Gerard sighs at the universe.

 

He begins to let his mind wander on how much fun he had with Frank today. How Frank was pretending to be a total diva when it came to choosing what jeans to buy. How fucking ecstatic he became when he was met by an isle of _socks_. Any little anecdotes that Frank decided to share, Gerard was all ears. How they either held hands or linked arms most of the time. Frank was really fucking sarcastic, too. Like, Chandler from Friends level of sarcasm. _It was refreshing,_ Gerard thinks.

 

As soon as it was his turn, Gerard gives his order to the barista. Gerard squints a little at the name tag, reading ‘MY NAME IS JULIA’ and then underneath it a little sticker that says ‘I’m new :)’.

 

“Okay, two tall Americanos, I can do this,” Gerard hears Julia mutter to herself. He felt somewhat sorry for her, she was probably only taking up this job to pay for college expenses or something.

 

“Hey, take your time, don’t worry about it,” Gerard was trying to be a good citizen, not wanting to add any pressure to her. He remembers his first part time job. We don’t speak of Gerard’s first part time job.

 

Julia just smiled brightly at Gerard, surprised that a customer wasn’t actually being an asshole to her. Soon, she had the two coffees made up, and even drew little smiley faces on the cups. “That will be $5.43, please,” Julia said after scanning Gerard’s loyalty card. Gerard hands her a ten dollar note, telling her to keep the change, and stuffed an extra ten into the tip jar. Her face was glowing.

 

“Thank you so much!” she exclaimes to Gerard, genuinely grateful for his somewhat generous tipping.

 

“It’s no problem at all, thank you for the coffee,” he smiles, taking the two cups off the counter. He gives one final nod to her before turning to make his way to his and Frank’s table. Except, when he turns around, he doesn't _just_ see Frank there, waiting idly for Gerard to come back.

 

 

He see's Frank, smiling and speaking animatedly to no other than _Mikey Fuckin’ Way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the feedback I've been receiving for this fic! It brings a big ol' smile when I see that someone has commented or left kudos. It's just a cool thought to me that people are actually reading what I'm creating. Crazy, man.
> 
> Again, here is the ol' tumblz link for all you mad dogs: rad-loser.tumblr.com


	10. "His name was Frank Iero."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey's a clever little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do apologise for this being a fairly short chapter. Busy weekend ahead and whatnot.! I hope you enjoy it all the same <3

_He see's Frank, smiling and speaking animatedly to no other than Mikey Fuckin’ Way._

Gerard just stands there, taking in the sight before him. His brother. And Frank. Chit chatting.   _What the fuck._

 

Gerard rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath, knowing that he’ll have to join them eventually. He loves his brother, he really does, but if he could kindly just fuck off, that’d be cool too.

 

Mikey catches Gerard’s eye and beckons for him to come over, “Get your ass down here, you idiot.” He see's that Frank has taken off the oversized coat and hoped that Mikey hadn’t recognised it. He's still wearing the Morrissey shirt underneath though, and Mikey has definitely seen that before. _Shit._

 

Gerard pulls out a chair and sits next to Frank, handing him his coffee. “Shit, I don’t remember the last time I had a Starbucks, thank you so much,” Frank says while taking his cup. Gerard just nods and turns to his brother.

 

“So, brother dear,” Gerard pauses, taking a small sip of his coffee, “to what do I owe you appearing out of fucking nowhere as usual?”

 

“Well, you told me you were going to the mall, it was only a matter of time before you’d saunter in here. You also rudely hung up on me earlier, which I would like payback for,” he leans over the table and flicks Gerard on the cheek. Gerard just scowls. “Also, ha-ha, you didn’t tell your fucking squatter was _Frank Iero!”_

Gerard looks at Mikey as if to say ‘ _wait how the fuck do you know his last name, I haven’t even gotten that far yet.’_ When he glances at Frank, his head's hidden in his now crossed arms on the table as if was shy or embarrassed that Mikey knew who he was. _Iero, huh? It sounds cool,_ Gerard subtlety notes to himself.

 

“Um, you know him then?” Gerard scratches his head, not at all comprehending what is going on.

 

“Gerard, I can’t even explain to you how much of a fucking moron you are. You know what? I’ll buy you a thesaurus and you can search up every synonym for the word ‘ _Idiot’_ they have. Then you’ll have your answer.”

 

“What did I do? Why am I such an idiot? I came out to get coffee and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now.” Gerard pouts, not liking being made fun of by his brother. By anyone, really, but Mikey was especially good at it.

 

“You _really_ don’t remember, do you?” Mikey asks. The blank vacant expression he got in return gave him his answer.

 

“You halfwit, I swear to God I just-” Mikey pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath, trying to comprehend how he and Gerard are related, “Do you remember like, I don’t know, maybe a year and a half ago, when me, you and Pete went to that show at Maxwell’s? There were a few bands playing?”

 

Gerard thinks back to what was apparently a year and a half ago, and heck, this was hard for him. He could barely recall what he did last week, never mind a fucking _year and a half ago._

 

He scrunches up his face, trying to remember exactly what Mikey was talking about, and yeah, the more he thinks about it, the more he can slightly remember that night. They were celebrating with Pete because he got his driver’s license or something. Yeah, he remembers that night.

 

His brain worked hard to understand how this ties in with Mikey knowing Frank’s name, or knowing him at all, actually.

 

“I somewhat remember that night,” Gerard ponders aloud, trying to make this big connection that Mikey had made in a few seconds. _Clever shit._

 

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Do you by any chance remember that band _Pencey Prep?_ The one with the guitarist that _you wouldn’t fucking shut up talking about for weeks?”_ Mikey urges him, almost as if it was super important that he remembers it.

 

Gerard’s face lights up at actually remembering something clearly, “Oh, man! That guy’s _tattoos_!” Gerard gushed, getting vivid images of that dude’s _arms,_ almost completely littered with images and phrases _._ He doesn’t even remember the actual songs all that much, but he was so transfixed on how this guy played guitar. His sweat dripping hair covering his face, and he was moving so fast around the stage, jumping up on the monitors, jumping up on the drums, even jumping up on the fucking vocalist. _Yes,_ Gerard thinks, _I remember him._ “Man, I had the biggest fucking crush on him for _weeks!”_ Gerard smiles with a slight blush creeping up on him. _Oh, Gerard…_

_“_ Yeah, I fucking know that, I couldn’t have a normal conversation with you without you mentioning “ _Hot Tattoo Guy””_ Mikey emphasizes his point by doing quotation marks with his fingers and raised his voice a little to imitate Gerard. Gerard just takes another sip out of his mug, ignoring Mikey’s remark.

 

“Yeah, well, you knew his name and wouldn’t tell me! That was just plain rude!”

 

“I didn’t tell you because I just _knew_ you’d try to fucking stalk him or some shit! Also, at that time, he had a boyfriend, so it wouldn’t have mattered.”

 

Gerard’s ears prick up at that last part, “Wait, does he not have a boyfriend now?” Gerard asks, trying to play it down how interested he was in this guy’s relationship status. He was surprised he was gay in the first place. Gerard was never lucky in that field.

 

“Gerard,” Mikey smirks, “would you like me to tell you that guy’s name?”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Gerard tries to be nonchalant, failing miserably none the less.

 

Mikey’s smirk turns into a full blown smile, almost pleased at himself for how this all turned out.

 

“His name was Frank Iero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I'll try to make the next one longer.
> 
> Also, I got asked on tumblr if fanart is welcome, and if you ever find yourself doodling and decide to want to draw fanart, it is very much welcomed with open arms.
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> (Also, I'm kind of in a rush to leave, so I haven't edited this yet. Please excuse any and all mistakes, I'll be sure to tidy them up later!)


	11. "What if it turns out to be a shitty rom-com instead?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's just a lil puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat important author's note at the end!

_“His name was Frank Iero.”_

A silence fell over the three men as Gerard was left to connect the dots. He was awfully confused, poor little fella. Surely he would have recognised the tattoos if he were to see them again. God knows he spent a lot of his time trying to recreate them on paper. Then it dawned on him that he hadn’t actually _seen_ Frank’s arms. _All thanks to that_ _goddamn_ _Morrissey shirt._

 

“But… but…” _Use your words, Gerard._ “Frank? Same guy? What?”

 

Frank raises his head from the table and lets out a quiet chuckle, seemingly amused by how flustered Gerard has become.  Gerard eyed Frank, almost silently asking him to confirm what he just heard. Frank straightens up in his seat and slowly rolls up his sleeves. _Slowly. Because apparently this whole thing needs to be more fucking dramatic. Of course._

And _holy shit, there they are._ The tattoos that invaded Gerard’s mind for months were right there in front of him. Gerard’s jaw has practically fallen to the floor now that he's finally seeing them up close in their full colour glory. Of course, there were a few that Gerard couldn’t make out a year and a half ago. He was merely spectating them from the ground while Frank was up on stage moving around really fucking fast. But _fuck, look where I am now. I’ve made it, Mom._

Gerard’s eyes trail down to Frank’s hands and does sort of confused puppy dog face when he sees the tattoos there. He doesn’t remember seeing them back then, and he still wants to know what the _B O W R_ and _O K Ø M_ meant. Frank picks on this and decides to finally offer him an explanation. What a nice guy.

 

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me,” Frank speaks up, “I’m pretty sure you just learned my last name there. My fault, I guess,” he leaves out a breathy laugh. “But you seem to be pretty intrigued by these,” he wiggles his fingers in front of Gerard’s face before interlocking them together, lining up the letters tattooed on his knuckles, finally letting Gerard in on a piece of his life. The seemingly random letters came together to spell _BOOKWØRM. Well how about that,_ Gerard thought, _that’s fuckin’ clever._

_“_ It was the last tattoo I got… last one I was able to afford. Got it just before Pencey split,” he scowls to himself, not quite wanting to relive that memory. “But as for the Halloween one, I often wore fingerless gloves while performing. Well, in general actually, they were basically a second skin to me. Especially the skeleton ones. Man, I miss those…” he trails off, huffing out a breath. “But yeah, that’s probably why you don’t remember seeing them, the gloves were just long enough to cover the letters.”

 

Gerard doesn’t necessarily remember seeing a pair of gloves, but he’ll take Frank’s word for it. 

 

Suddenly, the realisation hits Gerard that he just inadvertently admitted to having a big ol’ crush on the man sitting next to him. He can’t exactly deny it. Everyone heard it. Anyone who was in a close proximity to Gerard a year and a half ago pretty much got a huge earful about just how _hot_ Hot Tattoo Guy was. He was hopeless. _This is just another reason why my life is a shitty sitcom._

 

“Hey, don’t say that, what if it turns out to be a shitty rom-com instead?” Frank interrupts Gerard’s train of thoughts, giving him a shy smile. Gerard’s eyes widen.

 

“Did I just say that out loud?”

 

“Well, you muttered it to yourself, but it wasn’t in your head.”

 

“So my life _is_ a shitty sitcom!” Gerard raises both arms in slight agitation.

 

“Or just a shitty fanfiction,” Mikey chimes in.

 

“Oh, fuck you, it would totally be a _mildly entertaining_ fanfiction. I’m fuckin’ hilarious!”

 

“Ehhhh…” Mikey replies, doing sort of a non-committal wiggly hand gesture. Gerard just rolls his eyes at his younger brother and turns to Frank.

 

“I,” Gerard begins, racking his brains for the right words, “Okay, I, _shit,_ um. Well I guess I can’t even deny it. Like, you’ve literally just heard that I had a huge ass crush on you. And,” Gerard gulps, throat suddenly becoming dry, “If you feel uncomfortable being around me now, I totally get that, and if you don’t wanna leave, I understand,” Gerard’s voice got a bit sombre at the end, not exactly agreeing with what he was saying. _Ohhh, confliction!_

 

Frank frowns slightly, not liking what he was hearing. Like, he sees where Gerard is coming from, completely mortified that he just accidentally described Frank as ‘Hot Tattoo Guy’. But really, Frank’s not going to fight him on that, and believes that Gerard has the right to think what he thinks on that matter, but he certainly doesn’t want to move out just because Gerard’s a little embarrassed.

 

“Nah, I think I’m good,” Frank says before taking a loud sip of coffee, trying to deflect some of the awkwardness that has been bestowed upon the men. “Y’know,” he starts up again, darting his eyes up to Gerard’s for a split second, “there’s quite a few things that I’d like to admit to you, but, um, not here,” he waves his hands around, gesturing the space around him, fixing his eyes to his coffee lid. “I’m, I’m not exactly sure how you’ll react to it, so that’s why I don’t wanna say it here. You might get mad at me…” Frank trails off, hiding his face in his now crossed arms again.

 

 _A day,_ Gerard thought, _I’ve known this guy literally one fucking day. In that day he became my housemate, fake boyfriend and crush. Well, technically speaking, this is the second crush I’ve had on him. Now he’s fucking afraid that I’m going to get mad at him for reasons unknown to me. I really am in a shitty fanfiction, aren’t I? The shittiest of the shitty ones, with way too many curse words and where the author decides to break the fourth wall sometimes. What has my life become?_

Gerard tries to clear his mind from his brief existential crisis and glances down at Frank’s slumped frame. Whatever Frank needs to spill must be kind of eating him alive. This man who was smiling and giggling with him all day was now clenching his stomach with one hand, while the other was nervously running through his hair. _What did he do?_

“Frank, whatever it is, it’s fine,” Gerard decides. He doesn’t get easily bothered by things, and seeing Frank like this breaks his heart a tiny fraction. He doesn’t want Frank to get worked up over whatever he did. Did he break something while Gerard was away? Use up all of the shampoo? Leave the lights on so that his electricity bill is going to be sky high? Whatever it is, Gerard doesn’t care. He’s a chill guy. Like the sunglasses emoji.

 

Frank raises his head from the table and contemplates whether or not it’s a good idea to look at Gerard. His coffee is gone so he can’t distract himself with that. Mikey just seems to be completely ignoring them, even though he’s probably latching onto every word they say. Frank just doesn’t know what to _do._

“I promise, I’ll tell you everything. Like, whatever you want to know, I’ll answer it honestly. I, I guess I’m being a bit dramatic about what I did, but I just feel so _selfish_ and,” Frank pauses to take a deep breath and clenches his fist, crushing the empty cardboard cup in the process. “The dread won’t ease off ‘till I get it off my chest. I’m one of _those_ type of people. The type who need to talk about every small fucking thing that happens to them in order to get a good night’s sleep. Fuckin’ hopeless, man.” Frank punctuates his sentence by digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if he’s trying to fight back tears.

 

Gerard is at a loss of what he’s meant to do. He doesn’t want Frank beating himself up like this. He glances at Mikey, eyes pleading with ‘ _help me out here, please!’_ but Mikey’s a little shit and decides that this is as good as a time as any to leave. Gerard eternally screams.

 

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Frank. Don’t murder Gerard in his sleep, kay?”

 

“I’m afraid that after today, it’s gonna be _him_ murdering _me,”_ Frank says running yet another nervous hand through his hair and biting his lip. He looks as scared as he did when Gerard found him in the park after being caught selling his drawings. Gerard just hoped it wouldn’t turn into a full blown panic attack. He’d probably have to comfort Frank, pat his back and maybe even hug him. _Oh how tragic._

“Well, good look with that,” Mikey says while zipping up his jacket. “See ya, Gee,” he gives Gerard a half-assed salute and makes his way out the door. Gerard turns to Frank.

 

“Um, do you want another coffee or?”

 

“N-no, thanks. I think it’d be best to go back hom-” Frank cuts himself off, realising what a he about to say, “Uh, I mean, back to your house. Sorry.”

 

“You can call it home if you want, Frank. It’s where you live now.” Gerard stands up out of his seat, patting himself down to make sure he has his wallet and phone in his possession. He hears Frank leave out a deep sigh.

“I’m kinda terrified that you’ll change your mind about that after today…”

 

Gerard hears the sadness in his voice, the way it wavered at the end and how Frank is visibly shaking as he puts back on the oversized jacket. _Fuck it,_ Gerard thinks, and takes a step towards Frank, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his head on his shoulder.

 

“Frank, listen to me,” he soothes into Frank’s ear, “whatever you did, I’m not going to think any less of you, okay? I had so much fun today. The most I’ve had in a really long fuckin’ while. You just heard it come out of my own mouth; I kinda like you a whole lot. I’m not going to kick you out. I can promise you that.”

 

Frank leans into the hug, hanging onto every word Gerard just said. “I’m not going to make you promise that, Gerard. You don’t know what I’ve done yet.”

 

“Well, whatever it is, I’m going to be able to forgive it. I’m not going to guilt trip you about it or some shit. There’s nothing to be worried about, okay?”

 

Frank tugged on his lip ring, which Gerard figures it must be a nervous habit he has. The longer he looks at the tiny piece of metal, the more he notices that it’s a little bent out of shape. Just tiny miniscule indents from where his teeth absentmindedly chew down on it. He wonders how long he’s had it in, and figures he can ask later. He wants to know everything about Frank’s past. Or, well, at least how he got in this position in the first place. Why did his band split up? What do his tattoos mean? Would he be interested in Gerard taking him out on a date? The possibilities are endless!

 

Gerard lifts up Frank’s sleeve slightly and laces their fingers together, giving his hand a small squeeze. Frank throws him a hesitant glance, but his gaze shifts down to their hands, and he squeezes back, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you,” he says, looking back up at Gerard with the most sincere ( _and beautiful_ ) eyes Gerard’s ever seen.

 

Gerard smiles down at him, “C’mon, let’s get going,” he says, and they both make their way out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT-ISH: As you may have noticed, I've been writing this story in the past tense. This chapter, however, is in the present tense. I intend to edit all the past chapters to make it all present tense, as I think it has a nicer flow to it and makes it more enjoyable to read. There's not going to be any plot changes, so if you're currently reading this update by update, there's no reason to go back to read it all again. Just more any new readers who may stumble across my little fic here and reads it from the start.
> 
> Thank you for all of the lovely feedback <3
> 
> Here's my tumblr for all of your tumblr needs: rad-loser.tumblr.com


	12. *Sun Glasses Emoji*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank explains himself. Gerard gets embarrassed a lot. Frank confesses a thing. You'll like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took long. I'm sorry. Also, the format of this fucked up when I was copying and pasting it from Word to AO3, so please forgive any double (or sometimes triple) spacing and I promise to spruce it up again later.
> 
> See ya Kool Kids B)

 Walking back to Gerard’s house takes much  longer than it did when going to the mall. Frank was still adamant in holding all of his shopping bags in one hand while he kept the other clasped with Gerard’s. 

 “Frank, seriously, at least let me hold the one that keeps hitting off your ankles, it looks unpleasant.”

 “No. Mine.” Frank makes a pouty face, tightening his grip even harder on the handles.

“Your fingers are turning red, the handles are stopping the circulation!”

“Yeah, well, whaddya  know?” Frank shrugs, studying his reddening, close-to-purple hands, almost as he was fascinated by the action.

“You’re impossible!” Gerard replies, rolling his eyes and faking exasperation. Frank just giggles in response until they round the corner into Gerard’s block, happy expression suddenly falling as he realises that he has to spill the beans to Gerard.

Gerard notices Frank’s sudden change in demeanour, and this time rolls his eyes for real.  As far as Gerard’s concerned, Frank has nothing to worry about. Frank, however, has his eyes fixed to the ground, hoping that this isn’t going to be the last time he’s allowed to hold Gerard’s hand. 

Gerard fishes his pockets for his keys, jingling them to find the right one for the door. He holds  the door open  for Frank so he can bustle through with his body guard of bags. Once in, Gerard starts unzipping his parka, hanging it up and straightening out his clothes. 

He turns to Frank to see him stretching out his seemingly cramped hand, trying to get the blood flow back in motion. Gerard smirks slightly to himself before making his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, you hungry for anything?  You haven’t eaten, since, like, I don’t even know. I’ve never actually seen you eat.”

Frank shakes his head before starting to shed out his over-sized jacket. “Nah, man, I live off of coffee and cigarettes, I’m fine for now. Thanks.”

Gerard nods, running a hand through his hair. He points to the coffee machine.

“So, coffee?”

Frank eyes the machine for a moment before making up his mind. “Yeah, please. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. You can go put your bags up in your room. I’ll help you with them if you want?” Gerard offers.

Gerard almost  expects Frank to say something along the lines of ‘No, there’s no point, you’re just gonna make me leave soon anyway,” but instead he just bites his lip for a few moments before he finally nods and crouches down to pick up  all of his newly acquired stuff. He gracefully bashes his bags off every step, loudly cursing when the bag full of his ever exciting socks splits open.

“Not the socks!” Frank exclaims, watching them tumble down the stairs.

“I told you I’d help you!” Gerard tells Frank, amused by how utterly shattered Frank looks now that his socks are all willy-nilly on the stairs. Gerard begins to collect them up, prompting Frank to walk on ahead.

“Don’t you dare leave any behind, Way!” he hears Frank call out from his bedroom.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Gerard giggles back, counting them and making sure he gathered them all. He then makes his way towards Frank’s room seeing, Frank flinging his bags onto his bed.

“You go, Frankie,” Gerard says while dumping the pile of socks with the rest of Frank’s new belongings. “You want help unpacking or…?”

Frank takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for however long it will take to explain what he needs to. He bundles all of his shopping bags together  and drags them all against the wardrobe. He’ll hopefully get around to them later, depending on how Gerard will react. Sure, he literally promised Frank that he wouldn’t kick him out, but Frank’s heard that before. He’s a squatter now, for Christ’s sake.

Frank sits down on the bed and crosses his legs, thinking he might as well make himself comfortable. He pats the space next to him, prompting Gerard to sit thrre. Frank is just staring at his feet, and Gerard has a good feeling that this whole conversation is going to include a lot of that, but nonetheless, he takes up Frank’s invitation and scoots up next to him, also crossing his legs before he faces his direction.

There were a few minutes of silence that was eventually broken by Frank clearing his throat, finally allowing himself speak. 

“Um, okay, so. This actually somewhat includes Ray. And Mikey, in a way. I don’t know how to explain-“

“Wait what?” Gerard asks, completely perplexed.  How the fuck did Mikey manage to get in on this? And Ray? What do they do in their spare time?

Frank lets out a small giggle at Gerard’s face. His eyebrows are knitted together in confusion and his head is cocked to one side. It’s kind of adorable, to say the least.

 “Yeah, they're really good at acting by the way. It will make more sense later, I guess,” Frank shrugs, “But, um, for it to make sense, I’m gonna have to start from the start. Like, I don’t know, before Pencey split? I still had a fuckin’ home, anyway.”

Gerard hears the bitter tone in Frank’s voice, and, as support, of course, grabs Frank’s hand in his own and laces their fingers together. _ Just to calm him down, obviously. _

Frank smiles softly at  their hands, liking the way all he has to do is show the tiniest bit of distress and Gerard is more than happy to comfort him. Not that he’s done it on purpose, but maybe it might come in handy in the future if Gerard will keep him around.

“Right, so,” Frank begins again, “Here’s a little backstory for you. Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted to be a rock star.” Gerard smirks at the image of a tiny little Frank ( _Well, I guess that hasn’t changed much_ )  stomping around his bedroom, playing air guitar or some shit. It took all of whatever self-control he has not to let out an audible  _ d’awww _ .  He tunes back into what Frank is telling him .

“… And I’d tell my parents that. At that time, they’d just be like _‘_ _aw, yeah, sure, you can be whatever you want to be!_ ”  or whatever. But, um, like, as I got older, they started dismissing it, telling me that I needed to get a  real job,”  He narrows his eyes, glaring at his shoe laces.

“And I just didn’t understand it. Why would they suddenly change their mind? But anyway, I played along with them. Tried my best in school and tried to convince them that my rock star dream  was behind me. They wanted me to get into something that would guarantee a job for me or some shit. If they knew I still wanted to be a musician, they would've cut off my college fund. Not that I even wanted to go, but I thought I could still get a hold of that money somehow."

"So," Gerard cuts in, "did you go to college?"

"Yeah. Rutgers University. Did an English course." Frank runs a hand through his hair. It looks almost painful for him to recall these memories. "I didn't graduate, though. Dropped out during my second year. For Pencey ."

"Oh."

That's all Gerard could say. His parents were so set on him finishing college. He  was so set in playing in this band. Gerard can put two and two together.

"So, um. They kicked you out when you went to pursue music?" Gerard asks gently, not wanting to upset Frank.

"Yeah. Yeah, they did. But at that time, I didn't care. Evan was my boyfriend back then. He was all for dating me when I was in a fuckin' band," Frank states bitterly, "he allowed me to live in his ap artment  as long as I  helped out with rent. I was fine with that, totally fair! What wasn't fuckin' fair was when he told me to get out  when Pencey split." 

Gerard inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. "Are you fucking serious? H-he just splits up with you because you're not in a band anymore?" This pisses the fuck out of Gerard. What kind of dickhead would evict somebody like that? Gerard wouldn't do that to a friend. Hell, he wouldn't do that to a stranger, and that fact is backed up by him allowing Frank to live with him. But a  boyfriend?  Especially when that boyfriend is  _Frank_?  _The fuck is_ _wrong with that guy?  Fucking delusional, _ Gerard decides.

"Yeah, I know. I thought the same thing. Like, I still had a bit of money left. I would've been able to help out with rent for at least another three months. But, if anything, it just made me realise  that he only liked me for my status. He was able to go around and  brag to people that  _hey, my boyfriend is in a rock band, I am cooler than you_ or  some shit. I don't know. Either way, it was fuckin' low of him and I ended up homeless. He didn't allow me take my belongings or anything.  My clothes, my fingerless gloves, my guitar. All either lost or sold."

Gerard couldn't stand how fucking  miserable  Frank looked. This guy essentially ruined his life. If Gerard had known that earlier  during their little encounter, he probably would've glared at Evan a whole lot more. Or acted even more lovey- dovey  around him, as if to say _look at what you're missing out on, asshole! _

"So, anyway," Frank continues, "I knew my parents wouldn't take me back, especially when the whole reason I left college suddenly crumbled. They'd just tell me _'_   _I_   _told you so'_   and I didn't want to give them the satisfaction. I didn't go to any other friends that might have taken me in. For all they know, I'm still with Evan, I haven't talked to them in _so long." _

__ Frank huffed out a breath, trying to recollect his thoughts. Their hands were still clasped together, and Gerard took this opportunity to run his free hand over Frank's knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Gerard feels so lousy that Frank had to put up with this shit, and he wishes he had been there for him during that time. If Gerard had so much heard a whisper that Hot Tattoo Guy needed a place to stay, Gerard's door would have been open in a heartbeat.  Gerard tells him this.

"Aw, man, you mean I could've gotten ten pairs of matching socks ages ago?  Where were you in my life?" Frank giggles, poking Gerard's side.

"Yeah, well, I was fucking fawning over you. If I so much saw you walking down the street or whatever, I probably would have swooned. Granted that I saw your tattoos first, though." A blush crept up Gerard's cheeks, not fully understanding why he's telling Frank all of this. He doesn't even know if Frank properly likes him back. This could be dangerous territory. "I would've fucking forced you to stay with me," he laughs.

Frank's smile faltered. "Yeah, I know. This is where it might go downhill," his voice wavers, and he places he free hand on Gerard's knee. "I really don't want you to hate me."

"I'm pretty sure we've established that that isn't gonna happen. Didn't you just hear what I said?"

Frank's grin picked up again, but only slightly. 

"Yeah, but if you  do  get angry, you can shout at Ray and Mikey, too. I'm not taking the whole blame."

_Oh yeah!_   Gerard remembers, forgetting they had something to do with this. "How exactly are they involved?"

"Um, well, I've been squatting in people's houses for at least over a year now, I guess?" Frank furrows his eyebrows together, trying to figure out just how long it's been. "I can't be sure, I'm not sure when the last time I looked at a calendar."

"Anyway, your house is obviously not the first I've let myself into. There's been dozens. This one's definitely been my favourite, though," Frank smirks at their tangled fingers, and Gerard returns the gesture.

"When I let myself in, I just walked in through the front door. C'mon, man, keeping a key under a potted plant  is just  asking  for your place to be robbed. You're lucky that ain't  my scene!"

"His name is Earl and he's fully committed to protecting that key, thank you very much," Gerard says, pretending to be offended by Frank's bluntness.

"Yeah, well, when I let myself in, your buddy Ray saw me. He was checking up on your house or some shit. Maybe so that squatters don't make their way in, eh?"

"Well he did a shitty job there, didn't he?" Gerard jests.

"Very," Frank agrees, "but I don't see you complaining."

Gerard rolls his eyes, "Whatever," he mumbles, "just continue."

"Yeah, well, when he saw me, he recognised me _straight_ away,"  Frank narrows his eyes.  " Like, for someone who supposedly had a crush on me for over a year and a half, you took  your sweet time remembering who I was."

"I think it's time we put that in the past," Gerard says "and move on as a nation. You know full well how stupid I feel for taking so long to realise. And to inadvertently admit it to your face. _Fuck!"_ Gerard ducks his head into his chest in a lame attempt to shrug off some of the embarrassment .

"Yeah, but it's cute," Frank says meekly. "And um," he clears his throat, "he was all like ' _dude, holy fuck, you just completely disappeared from the music scene_ ' and I was like ' _yeah, man, let me fill you in on all the shit_!'  and so I did. We sat in your kitchen.  Told him everything. Cried like a motherfucker because it was the first time I opened up to someone about it."

"Toro's a good guy. He was all like ' _so you're staying inside Gerard's house ? _ ' and I was like ' _ Nah man, I'm squatting inside Gerard's house. Who the fuck is Gerard _ _?_ '  and at this point he just has this  huge fuckin' psychotic  grin on his face. Um, that's when he told me about your big ol ' crush on yours truly here,"  Frank winks, "and he was lik e  _' _ _this is perfect! Let me call Mikey!_ ' and like, I knew who Mikey was, just didn't know he had a brother. T hen he joined us. They were like _'_ _hey, Frank, why don't you stay here until Gerard comes back and just see what happens?_ '   and I was like, _'_ _ no way, man! I ain't _ _taking advantage of that! He'll just kick me out!'_   but they insisted that you wouldn't and that you'd recognise me and we'd fall in love with each other or some shit.  I don't know."

"Wait," Gerard cuts in, "so this whole thing was planned? More so by them rather than you, but it was planned nonetheless?"  Gerard makes a mental note to thank Ray and Mikey later.  _Is this the part where I'm supposed to get angry?_

Frank's surprised by how well Gerard's taking the news. Like, he wasn't sure what to expect, he's not a violent looking guy or whatever, but he appears to be completely neutral about the whole thing, as if it's a regular occurrence that happens to everybody. Maybe  some drama  would have been interesting, but Frank's not complaining.

"Yeah, I guess," Frank says, unsure of what tone of voice to speak in. He doesn't dare look into Gerard's eyes, but he knows that Gerard's are on him. "They just made me promise not to crash the place. I wouldn't dream of doing that. And um," Frank sucked in his lower lip before continuing, "they showed me the sketchbook."

Gerard eyes widened knowing exactly what he was talking about. _ The _ _sketchbook_. Not just any ordinary sketchbook, no _sir-ee_.  This sketchbook was filled not only with reproduction after reproduction of what he could remember of Frank's tattoos, but also fucking poetry about just how head over heels Gerard was for Hot Tattoo Guy. Gerard is hopeless. He didn't mean for anyone to see it, never mind the guy it's actually dedicated to.

"Oh," Gerard says, completely giving up on trying to defend himself. "Wow. Are they out to get me or something? Like seriously, how far did they have to go to prove that I have a huge fucking crush on you?"

Frank let out a breathy laugh and takes Gerard's other hand in his own.  "They showed me the diary entry you wrote for that day, too."

  _Well fuck. _ Gerard cringes at his former self. " _Why?_   Why would they do that?"

"Because I didn't believe that a guy as beautiful as you would like the way you do ."

"B-but how-" Gerard couldn't believe what he just heard. Frank just called him  beautiful. Hot Tattoo Guy just called him beautiful.

"They showed me photos of you. Like, they were really trying to sell you to me as if you  were some commercial on TV. But really, they didn't need to do much work."

Frank raises their clasped hands to his chest to bring Gerard closer to him, their faces just centimetres away. "T-they didn't?" Gerard stutters out, still not believing that this scene was actually happening. _Play it cool, Gerard. _

"Nope," Frank says, seemingly gaining a  hell of a lot of confidence since this conversation started, because before you know it, he's leaning in closing the gap between them for a gentle kiss. He untangles one hand from Gerard's and places it behind his neck. He keeps the other on Gerard's chest, just over his heart.

Gerard  was unresponsive at first, unsure of what to do or what was even happening. 

 ' _Kiss back, motherfucker. You've waited over a year and a half for this!' _

That seems to do  the trick. Gerard places one of his hands on Frank's waist while the other finds a home on his cheek. Gerard soon relaxes into Frank's kiss, giving himself over. He feels taken care of. He’s never had a feeling quite like it in a kiss before.The two shift positions to face each other fully to get the most out of the experience, deepening the kiss.

Gerard's in a world of bliss. Frank's lips feel soft against his slightly chapped ones. His lip ring feels cool against his teeth and he found that tugging at it elicited some, _ah_ ,  _interesting_   sounds from Frank's mouth. But alas, they need to breath.

Too soon for either of their liking, they break away, panting and gazing at each other. Both of their faces are flushed in deep pink and Frank  has a little dribble in the corner of his mouth, not seeming bothered enough by it to wipe it away.

"Gerard?" Frank asks after a few moments.

"Mhm ?" Gerard just has this lazy smile on him, still not comprehending that  _Frank just kissed him! _

"I think I'm in love with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicating this chapter to Swoops bc he is my best friend and I hope he's having a good day today. Thank you for reading my fic, swoops!! <3


	13. Thanks, Mom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I dislike chapter summaries I don't like giving stuff away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back!

 

 

_ "I think I'm in love with you." _

When someone tells you that they think they're in love with you, there are a few ways you can react. One of which being is that you simply say it back. Maybe you just passionately kiss the one who said it to you. Or you might be a tad bit shy about it and settle for intimate hand holding.  Maybe even the three combined! Either way, none of these options listed is what Gerard Way did. 

No, when Gerard hears these words being uttered to him, he fucking blanks out.

Granted, the person who said it to him is Frank Iero . The Lump. Short Dude. Hot Tattoo Guy. All of these stupid names that Gerard has come up with to identify who this man is. This is the man he found sleeping in his bed. The man who stole his favourite Morrissey shirt. The man who he found in the park selling his paintings. The man who he found crying in his living room because he felt bad for taking off with the money. The man who looks really fucking adorable wearing oversized jackets. The man who got all excited about owning matching socks. The man who just spilled his guts out about his past. The man Gerard's had a crush on for the past year and a half but didn't realise that until his brother told him. The man who just told Gerard he thinks he's in love with him.

This man has apparently fallen in love with Gerard while he was away for three months on  a business trip, only having whatever photos of him are laying around , cringy  journal entries and whatever the hell Ray and Mikey were saying about him to go on.

What a trooper.

Gerard has actually never had it said to him before. Sure, his family tells him from  time from time, but they don't really have a choice. No one of significance has said it and  meant it. Of course, he's dated a few people here and there, but they never really made it to the L word. Perhaps a quick _'_ _love ya' _when hanging up the phone or whatever, but as for the  whole _'_   _i_ _n love'_   thing, this is all new for him. When Gerard comes back around, he tries to gather his thoughts.  


_ I'm thirty years old and no one's ever said that to me before. _ __

"Well I just did," Frank states.

And great, here goes Gerard saying shit out loud again. He brings a hand up to cover his mouth, almost as if that will feed the words back in and make Frank forget what he just said. That's not how words work, Gerard.   


"And honestly," Frank continues, "I'm sorta happy about that. It means I get to be the first. And hopefully only."

Gerard can't help but let a grin creep onto his face that he's trying to hide with his hand. Frank still sees it though, he can see it in his eyes, and he smiles back. 

"I am actually swooning right now, what the fuck." Gerard voices, bringing his hand that was covering his mouth over his heart, trying to feel the pace.

"Yeah, I can be charming when I want to be," Frank says while taking Gerard's other hand in his own and lacing their fingers together. "So, um. What do you think?" he follows up, voice becoming slightly quieter at the end. "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"I don't think I've ever been in love before," Gerard blurts out. And he hasn't. "But," he continues, squeezing Frank's  hand  a little, "...what I'm experiencing now isn't something I've ever felt before, save for when I saw you on stage a year and a half ago, so if this is what being in love feels like, then fuck, I think I'm in love with you, too." He smiles down at his hands.

"Sorry for blanking out."

"Sorry for making you blank out."

"So you think we're on the same page here? With the whole in love thing? Describe to me what you're feeling, and I'll tell you if that's what I feel, too." Gerard says, trying to figure this whole thing out.

"Um, okay, well," Frank begins, "...whenever I look at you, I feel like you have the right face. The right hair. The right smell. The right laugh. I, ugh, I just can't quite put my finger  on  it  but I know I do not want to let you out of my life. I feel safe. Like, um, there's just a sense of security when I'm with you. Even when you weren't here and I was just mooching around, I don't know. I guess, um, your air or whatever that's called was still here. Like, sure, I was scared as hell that you were gonna hate me, but I wasn't in a state of constant fear and anxiety like I usually am. Uh. I didn't have that when I was staying with Evan. That sense of security. I never did. I tried too hard to make that work out, but ultimately, it just wasn't meant to be," Frank brings up Gerard's hand up to his lips and places a sweet kiss on one of his knuckles. "I feel different with us though. I've never believed in soulmates or whatever, but I feel I sense of urgency with you. I have this huge urge that being with you is the right thing to do. I know in reality it's literally been _one fucking day,_ but it feels like I've known you my whole life and I wouldn't know how to cope without you in it."  


Gerard blinks, processing what was just said to him. Gerard feels all of that and more, but he just doesn't know how to put it into words. What he does know is that there are these hardcore butterflies fluttering around in his tummy and it's making him feel lightheaded. No, scratch butterflies, try fire-breathing dragons. Fire-breathing dragons fucking jousting in his stomach. And Gerard loves every minute of it.

"I don't feel lonely when I'm with you," Gerard starts. "I've been with other people before, and somehow, I'd still feel lonely even if they're right next to me. I thought there was no hope for me, and I felt lost. I just sorta gave up trying to pursue new relationships. And then there was this bastard I once saw playing guitar at a show about a year and a half ago that made me want him so bad and I couldn't get over myself how mesmerising this guy was which soon depleted whatever social life I had left because all I would talk about was about this guy's tattoos," Gerard smirks, faking an accusing look in Frank's direction. "I feel more at home with you than I've ever felt in my entire life. I guess when I saw you that time over a year ago, it was love at first sight. I'm just an oblivious fucker who didn't realise you were in front of me again. You never fully left my mind."

"Is that a good thing?" Frank asks timidly.

Gerard places his hand not tangled with Frank's onto Frank's cheek. "It's the best thing," he replies before slowly leaning in, pressing their lips together.

Frank seemingly melts under Gerard's hold, eyes fluttering closed, sighing into Gerard's mouth before placing his free hand on Gerard's waist, pulling him closer and therefore deepening the kiss. Kissing each other feels natural for the two men, like it was supposed to happen from the beginning. When Gerard saw Hot Tattoo Guy on stage a year and a half ago, he wanted to kiss that motherfucker like there was no tomorrow. When Frank saw the first photograph that Mikey and Ray showed him of Gerard, he just wanted to be held by this man and never let go. Now they're kissing  _and_ holding each other. It's a win/win situation.

Neither men know how long they were kissing for. What they did know is that they never wanted to stop. Unfortunately, because the world tends to be against Gerard, his phone starts ringing. He frowns, making a disgruntled noise into Frank mouth.  _Whadda fuck?_

They pull out of the kiss, a loud  _smack_ ing sound being made in the process from their wet lips. Gerard groans.

"I literally never get calls. Never. Unless they're from Ray, but he's working right now. Who the fu--  _Oh hi, Mom!"_

Frank giggles at Gerard's sudden change of voice and decides to start unpacking. He's pretty sure it's a safe bet that Gerard isn't gonna kick him out now.

"Yeah, no, I don't have to go back to work until Wednesday. _Oh, you want to visit?_ " Gerard bites his lip. There's a pause as Gerard's Mother says something in response. 

"Yeah, I saw Mikey today, he's fine. Um, so when do you think you're visiting?" Gerard's voice gets sort of high pitched at the end, anticipating his Mother's reply. 

"Uh. Sure. I guess. Um. At my house or a café?" Gerard secretly hopes it's a café. Sure, his house is as clean as it's ever going to get at this present time all thanks to Frank, but he prefers the coffee at the café. Nonetheless, Gerard's Mom chooses his home because, as we've established, the world is against Gerard. 

"Okay, Mom... Yeah, will do....Love you too.... Bye." 

Gerard lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding as if breathing will let his Mom know that there's another person in the room. Not that he's ashamed of Frank being here, no not at all! But Gerard's Mom is going to want to know how the two met, and explaining to her that he found Frank sleeping in his bed probably isn't the best sentence to come out with.

"Everything okay?" Frank asks.

"How do you feel about meeting my Mother tomorrow?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincerest apologies for the wait. I had a huge writers block and just kept putting it off. I have some idea how it might all go down now, so, yay! I don't know how long this story is going to be, but we'll see how it goes. Hopefully chapters will become longer again, I'm aware that this one is particularly short, but hey, Gerard's Mother is gonna be in the next chapter, I'll make sure to give her the chapter she deserves!
> 
> Comments are welcome as always!
> 
> tumblr for all you fab people out there: rad-loser.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading xoxoRadloser


	14. I Love Donna Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love Donna Way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! I felt bad for taking so long with the last one and that was quite short! Here you go!

The next day, Gerard wasn't exactly the calmest camper around.

"If you want, I can leave and come back when your Mom goes away," Frank suggests.

"No!" Gerard says a little too loud. "I, um, I want you here. I want her to meet you. I've, uh, I've just never really done this before. The whole introducing thing. I've never really told my Mom about any relationships I've had. It just never came up. For all she knows, I've been completely single for the past ten years."  _Might as well have been._

 _"_ So I can be all close and cutesy around you? She won't be against us?" Frank asks.

"Uh. Sure. Go wild," Gerard chuckles. Frank's face breaks out in a huge toothy smile. It melts Gerard's heart just a tiny bit.

"Dude, seriously?" Frank asks while getting up to fling his arms around Gerard. He pulls back just a little to look at Gerard's face. "Evan never let me be cutesy and cuddly around him. Not even in front of friends. Like, everyone knew we were together, but he was completely against any display of affection in public. Not even hand holding!" he states incredulously. "He was holding that dickhead's hand when we saw him though. Fuckin' asshole."

"I don't get what that guy's problem is," Gerard says, referring to Evan. "From what I've heard of him, he seems to be such a shitty guy. Breaking up with you just because you weren't in a band anymore? That's so fuckin' low!" Gerard states, taking both of Frank's hands in his own. "You didn't deserve that. I hope he realises what an idiot he's been."

"Yeah, well," Frank smiles down at their hands, "It all turned out fine for us in the end, right? Like, um, I'm with you now, right?" Suddenly a look of fear flashes through Frank's eyes and he takes a slight step back. "I'm not reading this whole situation wrong, am I?"

Gerard pulls Frank close to his body and locks their lips together, hopefully reassuring Frank that his feelings aren't unwarranted. Frank seems to get the message as he kisses back with full force, doubting thoughts being terminated as Gerard squeezes his hands tighter.

"You're with me."

_Kiss._

 "I'm with you."

 _Kiss._  

"And we're together." 

_Kiss._

Frank just hums in agreement, letting Gerard punctuate his sentences by pecking his lips. He figures he could get used to this. Gerard makes him feel so wanted.  _Needed_ even. Fuck Evan. Fuck his stupid rules about not allowing Frank being affectionate in public and fuck him for being an asshole and dumping him just because he wasn't in a band anymore. He supposes he can't complain so much anymore. It's thanks to his squatting life that he's bumped into Gerard.  _Frank and Gerard,_ Frank thinks, _it has a nice ring to it._

Speaking of things ringing, the doorbell does just that. " _Shit!_ " Frank whispers, pulling away from Gerard, "I'm still wearing this fuckin' Morrissey shirt!"

Frank slept in it again last night, swearing to himself that he'll take it off when he wakes up in the morning because it's getting kind of gross at this stage. Instead, he decided to surprise Gerard with coffee and pancakes. It was so worth the smile he got, and personal hygiene has never been on his side, but wearing a shirt for like three days straight is getting sort of ridiculous.

Gerard just chuckles and makes his way over to the door. "You can go and change if you want, you _did_ buy like five-hundred plaid flannels and an equal amount of cardigans yesterday. You can even try out your new matching socks!" 

"Oh my God, yes, the matching socks! I'll be right back!" Frank says, dashing up the stairs and almost tripping in the process. "Wait, Gerard?" Frank enquires. 

"Yes?"

"Would it. Uh. Would it be okay if we maybe leave out the part where I was a squatter to your mom? I, um, I just kinda want to leave that part of my life behind me. For as long as I can, anyway. Can we not just tell her now?" Frank has got these big doe eyes on display, pleading to Gerard's soul.

"Of course, Frankie. Don't even worry about it." Gerard says. If anything, it sort of makes things easier. Gerard will just make something up.

"Thank you!" Frank says before legging it up the remainder of the stairs. The doorbell rings again.

"I'm coming!" Gerard tells the door, reaching out to grip the handle before opening it up to no other than Donna Way.

Donna Way is a typical New Jersey Mom. No-crap attitude. Poofy blond hair with a thin but friendly looking face. Always manicured nails and bright red lipstick on. You don't mess with Donna Way. 

"Hey Mom!" Gerard greets her, pulling her in for a hug. Almost instantly, her perfume raids Gerard's nostrils and it's the same one she's been wearing since he was a kid. He doesn't remember any other scent. That's his Mom's scent and always will be, and it's quite welcoming to smell it again.

"Hi sweetie," she says, kissing her son's cheek. "I've missed you. You're looking great by the way. That orange hair really brings out your eyes!"

"Ha, thanks," he says before realising this is the part where he compliments her back. "Uh, you're looking great, too. Is that, um, is that a new shade of lipstick?" he tries, because if it is and he doesn't notice, she'll berate him to no end.

"Ah, you've still got that artist eye in you!" she tells him. Gerard nods, proud that he got that answer right. He moves them along to the kitchen and Gerard starts up the coffee machine, not even asking his mother if she wants a cup.  _She always wants a cup._

"So, how was that business trip?" She asks him while pulling out a seat from under the counter top.

"Aw man, it was exhausting. Three months was a bit too long, it drained me a lot. I'm happy to be back." Gerard says while taking out three mugs from the press.

"Uh, Gerard, honey, who's the third cup for?" Donna asks, and as if on cue, a faint _'s_ _hit'_ from upstairs could be heard and then a slightly louder shatter.  _What is that kid getting up to?_

"Heh, well, um, about that--" 

" _Do you have other company?_ " Donna asks surprised. Gerard frowns at his mother.

"Hey, now wait, why do you sound so shocked that I may have another person in the house? Am I not capable of that?"

"Can you really blame me?" she puts her hand on her hip, cocking an eyebrow.

"I, well, I guess--"

And just then, Frank practically tumbles down the stairs. He's decided to go for a different pair of ripped knee pants and a pullover with a collared shirt underneath it, collar peeking up through the top and sleeves rolled up, displaying the absolute masterpieces Gerard loves so much. Casual with a bit of effort in it. Gerard's got himself a keeper.

"Uh, h-hi," Frank stumbles out, running a hand through his hair which looks somewhat combed. 

"Hi there, sweetie," Donna says, looking at Frank up and down, taking in his appearance. "Who are you?"

"I'm, uh. My name's Frank. Nice to meet you," he replies, reaching out his hand to shake Donna's. 

"Frank, huh? Gerard's never mentioned you before. I'm Donna, his Mother," she smiles.  _Smiling. Good. Yes. Good sign._

"Oh he hasn't, has he?" he takes out a chair at the other side of the counter. "I'm sure he must have," he smirks. "Do you recall the name _Hot Tattoo Guy?_

Donna's eyes widen in recognition. " _You're Hot Tattoo Guy?"_   She turns to Gerard and says "You actually found him?!"

Gerard hands the two their coffee and sits down next to Frank with his own. He turns to his Mom sitting across from him and says "Crazy, right? He's, um. He's my boyfriend now." Gerard glances toward Frank for validation, making sure he said the right thing. Frank's smirk turns into a full blown smile. He totally said the right thing.

"I-" Donna starts, almost gobsmacked. "Not that I didn't think you had it in you, son, because you  _are_ such a handsome man. But isn't that just incredible. You had such the biggest crush on him! I'm so happy for you!" she says, a wide smile present on her face. "How'd you two meet?"

"Uh." Gerard starts, hoping that whatever he says next will add up and be believable. "Mikey and Ray sort of set us up."  _Good, that's not really lying._

"Really? When?" she pries even more. You can't blame her, really. Gerard suddenly and almost magically getting together with  _Hot Tattoo Guy_ out of thin air? Who wouldn't want to know how that happened?

"Um, maybe like two months ago?"

Donna squints her eyes a bit. "But weren't you on that business trip of yours?"

 _Shit._  

"Uh, yeah, it was during that time. On one of my days off. Uh. Mikey called me and told me to head out to the nearby café and that someone's there waiting for me. It was a blind date sort of thing. And uh,  _ha_ , um, the second I walked into the café, I recognised him as Hot Tattoo Guy right away."

Frank snorts at the last part and sends Gerard a look that just said ' _like hell you recognised me right away, you moron'._ Gerard just takes a sip of his coffee.

"Aw, how nice of your brother! And how was Ray a part of this?" she asks.

"Oh," Frank joins in, "Ray and I are old friends. He knew I was in that part of town and told Mikey about it and Mikey did the rest."

"Oh, how lovely!" Donna squeals. "And you've moved in here?"

"Um," Frank pauses to gather his thoughts. "As of a day or two ago, yes."

"Simply wonderful!" she exclaims!

They all seem to take a sip of their coffee at the exact same time. Donna's just processing the good news, that her eldest son has  _finally_ found someone of significance. Gerard;s congratulating himself on his fast thinking lies and Frank's enjoying his matching songs. Then Gerard remembers something. He furrows his eyebrows together and says "Frankie?"

"Yeah?"

"What did I hear shatter from upstairs?"

Frank eyes widen. "Uh. Um. N-nothing. Of. Um. Significance?" It looked like it physically hurt him to say whatever broke was nothing of significance. Whatever it is, it must be important to Frank, or else he just doesn't want to worry Gerard, but either way Gerard raises an eyebrow in Frank direction.

"I'll, um, I'll tell you later."

Gerard just nods and Donna starts a conversation about this bitch Wendy at her last bingo session.

*

The three exchange conversation for a little over an hour or so (' _Wendy was obviously cheating!')_ , talking about everything and anything (' _she has an awful personality anyway, and even worse eyebrows!')_. Thankfully, Donna doesn't bring up Frank's band or anything of that sort, much to both Frank and Gerard's relief. The conversation ends altogether when an alarm sounds on Donna's phone informing her that it's 2 o' clock.

"Oh Lordy! It's time for me to bother Mikey and Kristin now! Those two lovebirds," she smiles fondly. "I'm so happy you've found someone too, Gerard! Hot Tattoo Guy no less!" she winks. She puts her mug in the sink before approaching Gerard, wrapping him in a hug and kissing his cheek. "Love you, son!"

"Love you too, ma."

"And Frank!" she makes sure Frank also gets a bone crushing hug. "I haven't seen Gerard this happy since he once got front row tickets to a Morrissey concert! Keep up whatever you're doing!" she says before ruffling Frank hair. "I'll let myself out, you two have a great day, okay? Bye!"

And with that, she's out the door, on her way to getting all up into Mikey and Kristin's business. She never stops.

There was a moment of silence before Frank said "Your Mom smells nice."

"I know right? I don't know what perfume it is, but it brings me back to when I was a kid."

Frank smiles to himself. "So I'm basically the equivalent to front row Morrissey tickets?" he muses.

"Yeah, well, I don't know if you know this, but I  _really_ like Morrissey. That's an honour you have going for you, there."

Frank snorts. "I'll be sure to call my Mom and tell her I actually made it in life. She's right, I didn't need the band. I'm just as good as a front row Morrissey seat ticket. She'll be  _so proud!"_

 _"Hey hey hey_ , you're not "just as good", Gerard says and Frank shoots him a glare, daring him to go on, "...you're so much better," he reveals, and leans over to kiss Frank's nose.

"Good save." Frank notes.

"I know right?"

"You're such a dork."

"You love it."

"...I love you."

"...Oh wow, you're basically asking for me to blank out again, aren't you?" Gerard jests.

"Yeah, that way I can steal all of your Morrissey shirts and run away, taking all of your sources of happiness."

"Oh, that's cruel!"

"Yeah, and I'll take the coffee maker, too."

"That's basically taking my soul."

"If that coffee maker is anything to go by, you've got a heavy dirty soul."

"Don't insult my coffee machine! It makes great coffee!"

"Yeah, well."

And then the two fall into a comfortable silence, just enjoying the other's company, sipping away at their coffee. Gerard's neighbourhood is quiet, only the faint sound of car engines could be heard if you strain your ears a bit. It's nice. It's simple. It's peaceful. Gerard's never minded the silence, and never really minded being alone, but he never fancied being  _lonely._ He feels real lucky to have Frank around.

After a while, Frank clears his throat and says "do you think I should call my Mom?"

"Um," Gerard scrunches up his nose "that's really up to you. I mean, I don't know how good or bad it was the last time you saw your parents. From what you told me it wasn't the best but, uh, is it a thing you want to do? Would you like to patch things up with them?"

Frank just lets out a deep breath. "I. I think so. Like. I hate them. For what they've said and done. But I still miss them. I just, I. Ugh. I don't know." Frank's eyes stare into his coffee as if it will give him the answers to everything.

Gerard places a hand on Frank's knee. "Well, hey, if it's upsetting you, try not to think about it right now. Whenever you feel ready to call them, you can use my phone. If you ever want to visit them, I'll drive and even come in with you if you want. If that will make anything better. I don't know. But, uh. I don't want you beating yourself up because of it."

Frank considers what Gerard just said and smiles. "That means a lot, Gerard, thank you."

"Well, yeah. I love you." Gerard says.

"That's not gonna make me blank out."

"Well, fuck."

"What could you even take of mine if I blanked out? Where's the fun?

"Your matching socks." 

"That's a bit too far, don't you think?" Frank says, bringing a hand up to his chest, feigning disbelieve.

"Exactly.

"... Hey Gerard?"

"Yeah?"

"Um. Your hand looks heavy. You. You should let me hold it for you."

Gerard smiles at the cheesiness. "Since when have you ever asked to hold my hand?"

"I was just trying to be smooth."

"You're an idiot."

"You love it."

"I love you," Gerard counters, and finally takes Frank's hand in his own.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you comment something nice, you make some loser kid from Ireland you've never met do some weird fistpump thing and go all giggly. Try it out.
> 
> xoxoRadLoser


	15. Swoops has a nice butt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title has nothing to do with the actual chapter itself, Swoops made me do it.

"So Frank, tell me how it all went down."

Frank and Mikey are sitting across each other in Gerard's kitchen sipping away at their coffee. Gerard had to leave earlier than usual for work this morning as it's his first day back since the business trip. Knowing that Frank doesn't like to be left alone for too long, Gerard called Mikey and asked him to keep him company sometime during the day. Mikey saw this as his opportunity to get all the lastest gossip from Frank.

"Better than expected," Frank replies, smiling down at his mug. "I was so terrified. How much has your mother told you?"

Mikey rolls his eyes. "Aw, man. You guys were literally all she was gushing about when she came by.  _My two sons have found true love!"_ he says, mimicking his mother. 

"Your mom's totally cool, though! I hope mine comes around soon..." Frank trails off.

"Aw, hey, I'm sure she will. Have you ever thought about visiting them? Your parents, I mean?" Mikey asks.

"Of course I have! I wanted nothing more than to just crawl back to them when Evan kicked me out,  _but nooooo._ I just have to be too damn proud, don't I?" Frank spits out, bitterly. _  
_

Mikey takes a sip from his mug and says, "They probably miss you dearly."

Frank lets out a resigned sigh. "Yeah. We were usually very close up until that point. That _one stupid argument_. Ugh, I can't believe I actually thought I could make it by being in a shitty rock band," Frank groans, hiding his face in hands while rubbing at his eyes furiously, almost as if he's trying to erase the memory of it all.

"C'mon, don't beat yourself up because of that," Mikey says, reaching out to grab Frank's shoulder. "Who says you won't make it? Try your hand at being in a different band, perhaps? Don't look so jaded, you're in your twenties, for Christ's sake!"

"I know, I know, I just. Ugh. I really put my heart and soul into that fuckin' band. I really thought we would make it. What's the point in being in a band that's just gonna split up for no good fuckin' reason?"

"Well, hey, look at the bright side. At least Gerard got to see you perform and fell in love with you in the half hour you were on stage."

A small smirk played on Frank's lips. "He didn't even recognise me as _'Hot Tattoo Guy'_ or however he put it, you had to fuckin' remind him of me!"

"I think the whole universe can agree that Gee is the biggest moron that has ever walked this planet. Like. He had no choice but to try to make the feelings he had for Hot Tattoo Guy die down because it was literally infesting his life. He believes in love at first sight. Back then, that was exactly what it was. He didn't know how to handle himself around people without going into some tangent that went into detail about your fucking arms!" Mikey points at Frank's tattoos before continuing. "I'm guessing that when he met you again, all these feelings were being resurfaced. Same guy, same sight, same love? I don't know," he shrugs.  

"Yeah, seemed pretty bummed out that he had to leave the bed this morning," Frank grins.

"You're sleeping together now? When did that happen?" Mikey has no concept of privacy and is actually very much interested when his big brother started sharing a bed again.

"Um, since last night. I uh, shit, I haven't gone in there since I broke that..." Frank begins talking to his fingernails.

"...Since you broke what?"

"Since I broke what?"

"Frank. Do you notice what you say out loud or...?"

Frank lets out a defeated sigh. "The, uh, the photo you gave me. In that frame. I dropped it and yeah. Shattered." Frank could feel his chest get heavy though he really wasn't sure why. It's just a photo frame, but he curses at himself for being so clumsy. "The photo's still in what's left of the frame, I don't want to take it out 'til I get a new one."

"...And Gerard won't just buy you a new one?" Mikey asks.

"Gerard doesn't know about it..."

"Gerard doesn't know about what?" Gerard asks, and Frank makes a face as if it's completely unusual for Gerard to be in his own house.

"What the fuck." Frank states, "you have trouble making reading a quiet pastime, how the fuck did you come into your house like that?"

"I wanted to surprise hug you from behind," Gerard says, jutting out his bottom lip. "I got off work early and everything."

Frank cringes at the hurt in Gerard's voice. He reaches his hands out for Gerard, prompting him to come closer. Gerard takes a few hesitant steps forward before saying, "...Did I do something wrong?"

"No, baby!" Frank says while getting up off the seat, crashing into Gerard's chest, arms wrapping themselves around Gerard's waist, pulling them closer together. "You've done nothing wrong. I really appreciate you coming home early. I missed you."

Gerard plants a kiss on Frank's head and hugs back, happy to finally have his Frankie back. He's all he could think about during work today. Not that that's a bad thing, in Gerard's opinion. Just a tad bit distracting.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," Gerard replies, stepping back a bit so he could see Frank face, finding a slightly worried look in his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"I...yeah. Just me overreacting again. Probably. I'm sorry." Frank says, running a hand through his hair. And that right there means that something's bothering Frank, Gerard has come to understand it as, anyway.

"Want to talk about it?" Gerard enquires, raising an eyebrow.

"Should I leave?" Mikey asks, gulping down the rest of his coffee because heaven forbid he leaves some behind. He gets up to put his mug in the sink. "I'm gonna leave." he says without waiting for a reply. "Gerard's not gonna hate you, Frank, get that look off your face," is the last thing he says before he's out the door.  _So much for support_ , Frank thinks.

Both men are still attached to each other, just holding hands as they contemplate the situation. Frank's thinking about how he's going to explain the situation to Gerard. Gerard's thinking how he would like a cup of coffee, but he also wants to hear what Frank has to say. He squeezes Frank's hand a little. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Frank lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He knows he's being irrational. He knows that Gerard won't think any less of him. What he doesn't know is why he's scared about Gerard's reaction, but that just seems to be his life at the moment. Frank concludes that it might just be best to show Gerard the broken frame rather than just telling him.

"Yeah, I know," Frank replies, finally squeezing Gerard's hand back. "Follow me."

Gerard's face scrunches up in confusion but follows Frank upstairs and into what was originally his room. Gerard takes a moment to appreciate that he sleeps with him now and that Frank could just move all of his belonging into _their_ bedroom, but thinks that's a different conversation for different day.

Frank sits crossed legged on the top of the bed and pats the spot next to him, beckoning for Gerard to sit down. Gerard has a flashback of when they were sat in these exact positions when Frank spilled the beans on how he became a squatter and how this was all an elaborate plan by Ray and Mikey. That last time ended up with them kissing, so Gerard's silently hoping it's going to have the same outcome again.

"So," Frank begins, "...Um, remember when you found me crying on your couch? When I tried to give you the money back?" Gerard nods, that's a pretty hard thing to forget, and even though it seems like a lifetime ago, it was only actually a couple of days ago. _  
_

_"_ Yeah," Frank continues, pausing to gather his thoughts. "Well, you saw me clutching a photo frame, right? The same one those two muggers were taunting me with?"

"I saw the back of the photo frame, yes?" Gerard says, not really sure where he's going with that. Why should he care about some old photo that's one of Frank's exes or something? _Now's not the time to be bitter about it, Gerard._

 _"_ Well..." Frank reaches under the pillow and pulls it out, careful not to touch the sharp glass. He keeps it out of Gerard's vision for just a moment more and then silently hands it over.

And that's when Gerard saw it. The photo. It's _Gerard._ A slightly younger version of him, his hair is black, but it's still  _him._ Not knowing it was on him, he's not looking at the camera. He's looking off to the right and smiling, teeth baring and reaching his eyes. He looks completely starstruck. He's never seen this photo before. There's a date at the bottom.  _Nov-15-2014._ Gerard's light up with recognition.

"That's the night -"

"-you saw me perform, yeah, I know." Frank finishes. "Mikey took it. Apparently this was your face the whole time while watching me," and yeah, that would make sense. Gerard's looking completely mesmerized like the second coming of Christ has appeared before him. It's most definitely Frank that's making him look like that, Gerard doesn't have a doubt. "Mikey gave it to me so I'd be encouraged or something. I never thought anyone would look at me that way. I was hoping I'd get to see that look again, and I did. I do. I don't know if you realise it but you do it quite a lot. Like right now," Frank chuckles. "I let it fall yesterday when your Mom came to visit, that's what you heard broke. I was looking at it for, I don't know, good luck for something?" Frank buried his head in Gerard's shoulder.

"Frank," Gerard begins, just now connecting the dots, "...didn't you say that when they threatened to tear the photo, you got an adrenaline rush and went batshit crazy? Like, you somehow got a hold of one of their guns and shot at them? Because of that photo?"

"I told you. That photo means a lot to me... I didn't know if I'd ever see you again and. And yeah. I just. I don't know. I love you."

Gerard's chest goes light when he hears those words hit his ears. He smiles a big goofy grin, very similar to the one in the photo, and Frank smiles back noticing the resemblance. "I love you too, Frankie. So, _so_ much."

The two men lean forward mutually and their lips meet half way, opening and closing against each other. In Gerard's opinion, this, so far at least, has been the best kiss they've shared. Frank parts his lip a little to allow for Gerard's tongue meet his. If you ask Frank, It's literal bliss.

Gerard has forgotten all about his coffee needs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm skyping Swoops while writing this hi swoops
> 
> (also feel free to comment i love reading comments)


	16. I AM UPDATING THIS SOON!!!

Ya so I haven't given this a glance since like 2015 and people probably aren't reading it anymore but for any of you who had this on notification: buckle up your seatbelts (and maybe reread it) coz your 2017 just got better <3 B)


	17. I Survived The LOMO Hiatus, 2015-2017

Gerard's first week back to work after that business trip didn't go as bad as he thought it would.

Granted, he still fucking hates it. Waking up at 5:30am and getting back home at about six in the evening isn't exactly ideal. His boss is still a dickhead, but hey, at least he has something worth coming home to. Or, well, someone.

That same someone has also been meeting up with Gerard during his breaks. He starts work at 6:30 in the morning and is allowed to take one-hour breaks every three hours providing that his boss is satisfied enough. The thing is, Gerard's boss is hardly ever satisfied enough, resulting in Gerard having to cut time out of his break times. _Still a fuckin' dickhead,_ Gerard thinks.

Since Frank slept through Gerard's 9:30am break, he rushes in through the door to Starbucks at 12:30 with a sheepish grin and apologetic looking eyes. Gerard's heart melts all over again.

"Hi," Frank says, "...I'm so sorry about missing your first break, I--"

"Frank," Gerard chuckles, "it's fine. I'm a big boy now, I can look after myself."

Frank pulls out a chair from across Gerard and sits down in it, stealing a sip of Gerard's coffee in the process. "I. I know. I just don't want you to feel lonely. I promised that wouldn't happen again." Frank's nose scrunches up in disgust. "Ew. Since when do you put sugar in your coffee?"

Gerard reaches over for his coffee back, but Frank holds up a finger indicating him to wait a second and takes a rather large gulp.

"Y'know, the whole purpose of meeting here is so that _I_ can buy you a coffee. And hey, I wasn't lonely. I figured you were probably still asleep and the image of you all cute and curled up under the duvet kept me going."

Frank had subtly started sleeping in Gerard's room. It just sort of happened naturally. He did originally head off into the spare room, but when Gerard woke up, Frank was fast asleep on his chest. He just crept in. No one complained, it was just a silent agreement between the two.

"I prefer stealings yours," Frank replies handing back the now half empty cup of Gerard's coffee, "and also on my way over here, I saw that the music store downstairs is hiring. I'm gonna try my luck in there."

Gerard smiles fondly and says, "I can totally picture you working in there. Go for it." Gerard knows how much music means to Frank, and if he can't make it by playing in a band, he'll at least be content with being surrounded by a fuck ton of instruments. "Although, I'm not sure if you'd actually work or just hide out by the guitars."

"Either way, they'd have to pay me for showing up, right?" Frank smirks, rubbing a bit of sleep out of his eyes. "Man, I'm still tired."

"You want to buy a coffee?"

"No, I want to go back to sleep."

"Well, you can't do that in a Starbucks. You can, however, buy a coffee."

"I can't sleep here, you say?" Frank says. Despite looking drowsy, he still manages to have a playful glint in his eyes. "Just fuckin' watch me." And that's the last thing he says before crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on them, deciding on his own terms that now is a perfect time to sleep.

"...Frankie?" Gerard tries, but only gets obnoxiously fake loud snores in response. Gerard leaves him be.

 

After a few minutes, it appears that Frank has actually fallen asleep. Whether it was intentional or not, Frank's fake snores have turned into quiet little puffs of breath.

 _'Man, I wish I could sleep that easily',_ Gerard thinks, but he's also bamboozled as to why Frank's so tired. He slept like a baby last night and hardly stirred when Gerard tragically had to shimmy out underneath him. He still made the effort to rush out here to meet up with him, though. _Bless._

 _"Pssst,_ Frankie," Gerard tries. "Frankieeeeee," he begins prodding him with the coffee stirrer. "Wake the fuck up sweetheart".

Frank's not having any of it though. "Butter doesn't even have any human rights?" he asks groggily to the table, mumbling into his sleeves. Gerard doesn't know how to proceed.

"'Fraid not," Gerard replies, answering for the table. "None that I know of, anyway."

Frank lifts his head slightly. "That's bullshit," he says, this time to Gerard's empty sugar packet. 

Gerard just nods, thinking that simply agreeing to him is the best solution here. "I know, man. Perhaps someday the world will progress".

Frank stretches his arms up. "That was a nice nap," he says, completely dropping the butter subject. "I'm awake now."

Gerard just grins, but it falters sightly when he checks the time on his phone. "Mr. Dickhead will be expecting me back soon. I better head."

Frank makes a sad puppy dog face, bottom lip jutting out with his forehead all wrinkled up. "That's dumb," he decides. 

Gerard lets out a breathy laugh. "I know, darling, but someone's gotta pay for all your matching socks."

"Yeah, I'm pretty high maintenance. You're the best sugar daddy ever though," Frank punctuates his sentence with a wink.

"Oh God, please don't ever call me that again."

" _Nuh uh, none for me, none for daddy?_ " Frank says in a mocking tone, making Gerard hide his face in his hands.

"Christ! _One time!_ I said that _one. Time!"_

"And I'm never gonna let it go, love," Frank says while gliding out of his chair. "But I will let you go now. Go make me some money!"

He leans over the table and gives Gerard a quick little peck on the lips. "I'm gonna go to that music store and beg for a job now. Toodles!"

And with that, Gerard watches his boyfriend leave the Starbucks, almost tripping over a toddler in the process.

Toddlers are dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha so. People thought I was dead. I'm still here. You survived the hiatus!! Go you!! Anyways, a lot has happened in the two years since I stopped writing. I'm still best friends with Swoops tho.  
> My writing skills are rusty and this chapter was short but please bare with me while I find my groove again.
> 
> New one-shot will be posted soon!
> 
> I love Swoops and Fitz with all my heart.
> 
> I'll try to have regular updates with this story.
> 
> xoEljay


	18. im shit at long chapters rn so here's a short one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i have a question in the end notes

"The toddler's mother was traumatised after you tripped over the small human," Gerard told Frank over the phone. "Do you want anything from the store? I'm on my way back now. Oh! Takeaway! Should I get a takeaway from somewhere? Or do you have something else in mi--".

"Gerard!", Frank cut him off. He didn't even say hi or anything, just jumped straight to The Toddler Incident, which Frank didn't think was fair. The child should have been kept on a leash or some shit. _Toddlers. Are Dumb,_ he thought to himself. "I have news," he continued.

"Oh! How did the begging for a job thing go? Did you get it? No worries if you didn't by the way like I told you you're not paying rent or anything and though I do not like the title, I will be your sugar daddy if needs be like anything you want just say the wor--".

"Gerard!" Frank interrupted. God, his boyfriend babbles way too much. "Yes, I got the job. As it turns out, the owner remembers Pencey soooo..." he trails off. "Guess that's just what being a washed out wannbe rockstar gets you! I start tomorrow."

"That's great! Aw Frankie I'm so happy for you like you don't even know! We should celebrate by getting a takeaway or something. I'll get something vegetarian for you, yeah? Or will I just get pizza because like--".

Frank takes the phone away from his ear to give it some rest from Gerard's insistent chatter. He loves him, he really does but holy shit that man can _talk._ Frank can't get a word in, which sucks because he has yet another thing to tell Gerard.

"...Gee?", he starts out tentatively. "So... the boss also gave me an advance so... he's already given me my pay for the next two weeks and..."

"Hey that's so generous of him man I wish my boss was like that--"

"And I may have also already spent it..."

"Well hey that's what money's for you know like you know full well you don't have to hand up anything to me but I swear to God if you spent it all on socks--"

Frank let out a chuckle at that. He'd already lost a fair amount of socks since that shopping spree, never to be found again. They were pretty much all odd socks once again. _Something's never change,_ he supposes.

"No babe, not this time anyway, pinky promise. I got a--"

"Oh hang on Frankie I'm just gonna run in and order pizza. Save me the suspense 'til I get home!"

"No wait Gee just," _click!_ And just like that Frank was hung up on. He tosses the phone aside on the couch.  _Fucker._

You see, Frank is a horrible impulse buyer. Well, actually I suppose he was a _great_ one, 'cause he's amazing at convincing himself he needs everything he sees. He made Gerard buy them matching Snuggies, seven packets of Blu-Tac, a fish bowl for the fish they don't have, door _knobs_ for the doors that already have existing door _handles_ , and many, _many_ other things. The amount of fucking _candles_ that have appeared in the house since Frank officially moved in is just something else.

Frank guesses it's probably best to just show Gerard what he bought instead of just telling him over the phone. He was looking forward to the pizza Gerard deemed as necessary to get as a celebratory token. The only thing they've ever had a proper heated argument about was the whole pineapple on pizza debate. Frank's all for it. ' _It makes the pizza sweet and it compliments the bitter tomatoes!',_ followed by Gerard's ' _you fucking Heathen! Heathen I tell you!'._ They then vowed to never bring up the topic again.

Outside, Frank could hear the faint sound of police sirens, and it shook him a little. He's sure if he was on some 13 year old's forum right now, he'd get a _'lol you triggered bro ??'_ sort of comment. He can't help it though. They just bring him back to that night when he tried to give Gerard back his money and instead almost got mugged. _The gunshots, Christ,_ but then he grounds himself. His life has gotten marginally better since that night. He now has a gorgeous motherfukin' home with a gorgeous motherfuckin' boyfriend. He has a job and _plenty_ of mismatched socks. It all happened in a space of a few hours like. What is this, a shitty fanfiction? But no, this was actually Frank's life.

He debates calling Gerard again to tell him to bring home icecream, but he also wants to see would Gerard do that all by himself. Icecream is much more of a celebratory food in Frank's humble opinion, but will Gerard follow through? That's some cliffhanger worthy stuff, right there. Frank realises he's pretty much out of pocket for the next two weeks, but he doesn't regret his purchase at all. He doesn't know how Gerard will react, but he want's to see how long it will take Gerard to notice. He pretty much very oblivious, as seen in that one time where Gerard did not notice a stranger in his bed. _Oh, Gerard._

Still though, Frank wouldn't trade him in for the world. He's very quite fond of Gerard at this point. He loves his stupid bright orange hair. The fact that he really dresses up going out or does not try at all, not even a little bit, there's no inbetween. His sticky out-y pinky fingers. His dumb bedhead when he wakes up. He's crazy talented at art and at singing, though he will deny that Frank ever hears him singing in the shower because _'singing in the shower in gaaaay',_ according to Gerard, a raging homosexual.

Frank really and truly loves life right now, and he didn't actually believe he'd ever say that and _mean_ it. And yet, here he is. Living this life with his boyfriend, secure home, clothes on back back, food on the table and--"

"Frank. Why is there a dog on your lap?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should i keep continuing this? are people reading? am i talking to an abyss? did you like this chapter?


	19. Dog.

"Frank, why is there a dog on your lap?" Gerard asks with two pizza boxes ( _and icecream!_ ) in hand.

"Close the door, Gee, he'll get out!" Frank exclaims as the dog jumped off of Frank's lap to sniff Gerard the Intruder.

Gerard shuts the door with his feet and lifts the pizza boxes up above his head so the dog doesn't get at them. Now, the dog hardly reaches past Gerard's knees, but of course he has to be dramatic about it. _"Frank!"_ Gerard exasperates, "where did this dog come from?"

"He's an old friend of mine," Frank replies. "He used to keep me company on the days I stayed on the streets. His name is Nipple," he adds helpfully. 

"Right..." Gerard says looking down at Nipple, who has now taken a particular liking to his shoes. "What's he doing here?"

"I saw him on my way home and like. He started following me so. And now he's here!" Frank explains, smiling at Nipple. "Aw, Gee! He likes you!"

"So he's a dog from the streets?" and Frank nods. "How did you spend all of your money on a free dog? Do I want to know?"

"Umm, probably not to be perfectly honest with you. Oh hey! Pizza!" Frank leaps off the couch and grabs the pizza from Gerard's hands. "Aw babe! You got icecream! I was hoping you would," he kisses Gerard on the cheek. "C'mon, Nipple! Let's get you some din-dins!"

Gerard watches as Frank shoves the tub of icecream in the freezer while Nipple follows close behind. He'll admit, the dog is cute. He's quite scruffy and a bath wouldn't go amiss. His sandy coloured fur was a tad bit matted in places, but not too horribly. Gerard's just unsure if they're ready for the responsibility that comes with a dog. He can hardly keep his house plants alive, It's usually Ray that comes in to water them. Nipple's tail is wagging so fast it's just merely a blur. Big brown eyes looking up at Frank while he struggles to open the bag of dog food. "Gee, could you hand me the scissors please?"

Gerard nods and makes his way over to the cutlery drawer, retrieving the scissors. "Frank. I have questions."

Frank takes the scissors and rolls his eyes. "Shoot."

"Okay so. What breed is he? Does he have rabies? How will we take care of him when we're both at work and... why is his name Nipple?"

Frank heaves the bag of dog food over to Nipple's bowl and pours some out. Kibble flies pretty much everywhere _except_ into the bowl and Gerard lifts an eyebrow. _Oh God, what has he gotten us into?_

Frank pulls the dog food away and lifts it back up to the counter top. "Don't worry, he'll clean that up," he informs Gerard, pointing to Nipple. "Let's discuss over pizza!"

Gerard decides to just go with the flow and to let whatever happens, to happen. He joins Frank who is now on the couch opening up the boxes of pizza. "Sooo...."

"Right so!" Frank begins, "I think he's some sort of Glen of Imaal terrior, like, I get those vibes off him. He doesn't have diseases of any kind, I blew a lot of my money on taking him to the vet before I took him here. Vet also thought he had Glen of Imaal terrior vibes. He sleeps a lot so he'll be fine if we're both away. Or hey! We could just get another dog so he isn't lonely! And his name is Nipple because I want it to be."

 _Fair enough_ , Gerard thought, he wasn't going to argue with Frank on what he likes to name things. Frank tears off a slice of pizza and stuffs it in his mouth. "Mmm, Gee, this was a good idea, thank you."

Gerard wasn't opposed to the idea of owning a dog. Frank was ecstatic about it, and a happy Frank is a Frank Gerard loves to see. Gerard also grabs a slice, glancing at Nipple who is vacuum cleaning up the floor kibble. "Wait hang on," Gerard realises. "We are not getting another dog, Frankie. Calm your tits."

"Calm your _nipples,"_  Frank replies, because he thinks he's hilarious. Nipple perks his ears up upon thinking he heard his name, and makes his way over to his new Dads. He eyes Gerard, almost pleading if he can come up onto the couch. "No," Gerard tries sternly, "no couch."

Nipple just sneezes and pitter-patters his way over to Frank's side, jumping up onto his lap without looking for any permission. Frank looks at Gerard apologetically, giving him a sheepish smile. "Whoops," he says. "Looks like we got ourselves a rebellious dog."

"Mhm, and I wonder where he got that from."

"I certainly didn't raise him to be this way. Must be peer pressure from his friends or something."

"He needs a bath."

"So do you."

"True."

"So. We can keep him?"

"I'm not racist against dogs so I don't see why not." Nipple jumps off Frank's lap to go look at the window. Maybe he's self-reflecting.

"Imagine if dogs could be homophobic. He'd be fucked."

"It's a good thing we're straight then."

"Oh yeah, definitely," and he leans over to Gerard to give him a pizza filled kiss. "I hate gays."

"Mhm, me too," and Gerard returns the gesture, a little closer to Frank's mouth.

Frank slides the pizza boxes onto the coffee table and scooches a bit closer to Gerard. He places a hand on his neck and pecks his nose. "I have a secret to let you in on," Frank whispers into Gerard's ear.

"Oh yeah?" Gerard asks, beckoning Frank to come closer, which results Frank into straddling him. "What would, _ah_ , that be?" he finishes a bit breathless, biting his lip.

Frank looks down, tracing his hands down Gerard's chest. "I'm... I'm..." Gerard's hand travels up Frank's shirt. "Fuck. I'm really fucking gay."

Gerard pretended to look gobsmacked, but he just couldn't bring himself to it. I don't know if you know this but Gerard is also, in fact, really gay. And now, thanks to Frank, also very horny.

"Let's go upstairs, Gee," Frank says, backing off of Gerard's lap and takes him by the hand, guiding him to the stairs.

"Oh yeah?" What's upstairs?" Gerard says playfully, as if he doesn't know his own kingsize bed. And then... then he notices Frank's face fall suddenly, as if he just remembered something really important. "...Frank?"

"Hey how about we don't go upstairs and just have a jolly good time on ol' reliable here," Frank says, steering Gerard back to the couch and pats the cushions.

"Frank... what's upstairs?" Frank tries to make Gerard forget about it by kissing him passionately. "Fran-- _mmph_."

It almost worked. Almost. Gerard _is_ a very easily distracted person, but he's even more of a curious person. What's upstairs that Frank is hiding? He manages to push Frank in a way that he safely falls onto the couch, because Gerard ain't about that domestic violence life _at all._  He begins to rush up the stairs before Frank can lure him back with his evil gayness. "Gerard, _wait!_ "

Gerard barges into his own bedroom first and doesn't see anything suspicious. Actually though. The bed is made. Nor him or Frank ever make the bed. _What's Frank playing at?_

And then he hears something. Something coming from the spare room. _Oh fuck if it's another dog I'm gonna--_

Gerard opens the door.

"Frank," he calls out. "Why is there a fucking rabbit in the spare room?"

"His name is Joe."

His name is Joe.

**Author's Note:**

> More will be uploaded soon as inspiration strikes! Thank you for checking it out, it means a lot.


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